The Extortionist
by TheSongbird341
Summary: When the infamous Extortionist hits NYC, Peter's got his hands full – leading the investigation no man has completed, protecting his pregnant wife from a kidnapper gunning for her, and keeping Neal under control. Can he keep the inevitable from happening, or will he end up enlisting Neal and Mozzie in a quest to retrieve what has been taken from him?
1. Chapter I

**The Extortionist**

* * *

_When the infamous Extortionist hits NYC, Peter's got his hands full – between leading the investigation no man has completed, protecting his pregnant wife from a kidnapper gunning for her, and keeping Neal under control. Can he keep the inevitable from happening, or will he end up enlisting Neal and Mozzie in a quest to retrieve what has been taken from him?_

* * *

**Chapter I**

* * *

Peter blinked his eyes open, blurry vision replacing the black nothingness that was blissful, uninterrupted sleep, and he met the sight of his beautiful wife, Elizabeth Burke, sleepy eyes closed and a hint of a smile playing at her lips. Her chest rose and fell with silent breaths, and her dark brown hair was splayed across the pillow, her shoulders, and her pale neck. She looked so peacefully at ease that he had trouble deciding if he should wake her. Finally, after consideration, he reasoned that she would need a good breakfast before she had to go to work. Planning events was a tricky business, and more often than not, she went without lunch. He recently began bringing her lunch whenever possible, but he had a feeling he wouldn't get out of the office so easily today. Some important case arose out of the blue and he was trying to get every spare paycheck he could manage since they'd found out about their little "surprise".

He grabbed her shoulder and gave it a gentle tug, pulling her out of her dreams and into reality. Her wide blue eyes fluttered open, finding his instantly. Elizabeth smiled at her quick recollection of the past week and its events, and her hand automatically settled on her abdomen. His large hand engulfed hers and they sat in comfortable silence, smiling at each other. They'd both done a lot of smiling since they returned from the doctor with a residence inside her and a new emotion in their hearts. It was hard not to, knowing that in 8 short months there would be little hands in theirs and little laughter amongst the big laughter (and the occasional woof from Satchmo) filling the house.

Elizabeth's voice brought him out of his thoughts and into reality. "Good morning," she whispered in a sing-song tone.

Peter smiled wider and replied, "Good morning yourself."

She leaned upward and kissed him tenderly, only pulling away when she caught sight of the time. "You let me sleep in?"

Peter simply said, "You looked tired." She smirked and poked his stomach, to which he responded with a kiss on her forehead. El winked at him and started upward, jumping out of the bed.

Instantly, she regretted it; her stomach dropped and nausea rose up her spine and into her throat. "Oh..." She covered her mouth with one hand, using the other to steady herself on the bedpost. El knew Peter was watching her, so she toughed up and waited for the feeling to pass. However, it didn't, and that's when the real worry set in. Would she have to work like this?

"Honey?" Her husband stood up warily, walking over to check on her. He set a hand on her shoulder, silently waiting for her to look at him. Eventually she did, with slightly worried eyes. "Are you okay?"

She blinked, then nodded. "Just a little morning sickness, I guess. I'm gonna go get re-" Another wave of nausea rushed over her, and she pushed past him, running to the bathroom.

Peter stood in shock as Elizabeth slammed the door shut behind her, locking it. He blinked, walking to the door. "Maybe you should stay home today..."

Her voice erupted behind the door. "No, I'll be fine! I just... need a minute."

Peter seriously doubted that, but when Elizabeth put her mind to something, it would often take a fire or a dead body to stop her.

"If you're sure. I'm just gonna grab some breakfast and head out." He almost left, but added, "If you need anything, give me a call."

"Mhmm!" Her voice sounded weak, but he wasn't about to question her conviction. "Love you!"

"Love you too, hon."

And with that... special sendoff... he was off.

* * *

Peter waltzed into the White Collar unit casually, nodding at passers-by and familiar faces, while his thoughts raced. El said she was fine, but she was his wife, whom he'd known for ten years. She often said she was "fine" not out of speculation of her welfare but rather the seriousness of the situation and what she needed to accomplish. He'd have to keep his phone on, whether she said she was "fine" or not; customers don't take kindly to their event planners throwing up in the middle of the store, and she knew that.

"Hey, Peter!"

Peter turned to the direction of the voice and found Neal Caffrey, twirling a hat onto his head and smiling in the way only he did. His "snake eyes" as Peter inwardly referred to them were locked on him, and he figured either there was something very important, or Neal just felt like today was a good day to waste his time. He was more dependent on the latter.

"Hey, Caffrey," Peter greeted him cautiously, eyeing a paper in his hand. "What's that?"

"Invoice." Neal handed the paper to his partner, which was quickly scanned before dismissal. "Some big meeting's about to be held in the Conference room. Sounds important."

Peter sighed, walking next to his comrade as they twisted around the early-morning rush the office always provided. "Yeah, I know. I got a call about it on my way."

"Any idea what it's about?" Neal questioned.

Peter shook his head, eyeing the paper in the ex-criminal's swinging hand. "I was hoping you could answer that."

"Ah," Neal blinked, glancing around the busy room dismissively. "How's Elizabeth?"

"Wasn't feeling well this morning." Neal gave him an inquisitive look, so he added, "Morning sickness. First case of it, far as I know."

"Will she still be able to work?"

Peter honestly couldn't answer that question. "She's around all that food and wine... El says she's fine, but I think she's gonna have to have someone work her hours in the morning and pick up in the afternoon, if it wears off by then."

Neal snorted. "She's not gonna like that."

Peter grimaced. "You've got that right."

"Agent Burke!" Jones ran up to the pair, clutching a file precariously in one hand. "Meeting's starting. We're holding a chair for you."

"Right behind you," Peter replied quickly, following him to the large room. He and Neal exchanged glances and peered into the window, getting a feel for what kind of crowd they would be stepping into. The usual agents sat in their usual seats, and surely enough, two empty chairs.

They entered the room, all eyes darting to the three men stepping in on the meeting. Hughes hadn't seemed to mind their entry, welcoming them to take a seat and pay attention as he briefed everyone on the case which they were all sure would be the only thing heard of for days, if not weeks. Peter wasn't at all enthusiastic but he listened closely, fearing he would regret walking into such an issue blindly.

"We've got an abduction case."

Peter looked up. That was something you didn't see too often lately.

Hughes continued. "The kidnapper goes by the name of the Extortionist. We've had his cases before, but we could never place the man behind he mask."

Peter's brow furrowed as not-so-fond memories of the "Extortionist" came into view. He remembered clearly the man's unique way of kidnapping key people in the government, law-enforcement and, the touchy point of conversation, the bureau. He could recall several attempts to catch him in the act when a clue was slipped, but the man was always one step ahead and leaving choice clues, which must be distinguished fake or real. By the time you had a plan in action, he was off to Act 2.

"Who's he got this time?" Neal asked, all eyes on him (as per usual).

Jones blinked at him. "You're familiar with his work?"

Neal grimaced. "If his work is kidnapping innocent people and their wives, then yes, I've heard of him."

Hughes nodded and continued. "As some of you may be aware, he kidnaps his victims in groups, then takes full ransom in return for each of them, within the span of a week." He pulled a chart and map of the city down from a cord and pointed at points marked in red. "He leaves clues, some fake, hinting at where he's keeping them. By the time they're interpreted and a plan is in place, he moves to another location, all within the same city, and doubles the ransom. It's his game, and he plays it well."

Everyone nodded, muttering to each other. Neal contributed with his own mumblings, directed mostly to Peter. "This guy gets a lot of money, and makes it look easy. You're gonna have a tough time catching him in the act."

Peter smirked. "You mean 'we'll' have a tough time. We're gonna need your vast knowledge to find him." He eyed Neal's fingers tapping on the table. "What do you know about his past victims?"

He stopped tapping, sighing as if it pained him to share the information. "He always takes three; one government official, one law-enforcer, and one federal agent. He usually takes two women and one man, so as not to be outnumbered, but last year he took on three men, one of which died when the FBI failed to pay ransom."

"Why didn't we pay?"

"Too busy trying to catch him," he coughed. "However, since he took three men last year, it's likely he'll take three women this year. One agent, one from law-enforcement, one from government."

"That's a good point, Mr. Caffrey," Hughes interrupted. "We could be dealing with a female abduction this time, so we're not putting any female agents on this mission."

The women automatically protested.

"That's not fair!"

"It wasn't that way with the men!"

"We'll be too vulnerable!"

"Alright, settle down!" He waved a hand to calm them down. "You'll be on the case, and paid in full. We just can't risk you on the field." They quieted.

"Who will lead the investigation?" asked Jones.

"Agent Burke will be the leader, along with Caffrey as a consultant," He looked at the two. "You both share a unique knowledge of our kidnapper. Don't fail us."

"Yes, sir," Peter assured him. Neal only offered a nod.

* * *

Peter waltzed in the door, Neal trailing him. He was still rambling on about some painting he'd stolen somewhere...

"And that was when I realized; I forgot which one was my forgery and which was real!" Neal laughed. "So, with a minute until the alarms activated again, I called Mozzie in and we searched for any differences, but we couldn't tell. So, we had to pick by random, and we ended up with the real painting! Guess we just-"

The pair stopped abruptly at the sight of Elizabeth sitting on the couch, watching TV and eating what appeared to be hollowed-out pickles with peanut butter on the inside. On the coffee table there were several bags of chips, popcorn, cereal, celery with dip, and much more.

"... got lucky," Neal finished. He looked at Peter and whispered, "Morning sickness, huh?"

Elizabeth heard their voices and looked up, smiling. "Hey, honey! How was work?"

The men walked into the living room, revealing Neal behind him. "Oh, hi Neal! I didn't know you were dropping by." She immediately began cleaning up the food and wrappers.

Peter stepped forward and wrapped her in a quick hug, kissing her cheek. She kissed his cheek as well and hurried into the kitchen, hands full with trash and half-eaten bags of food.

Neal chuckled at Peter. "Looks like El's faring better than you thought."

Peter's eyes were wide. "Something tells me I'll be eating toast for dinner..."

* * *

_**WOO!**_

_**I've been writing this for six months, editing and rewriting, and swore by the time I wrote 20 out of 30 chapters I'd start posting. So here I am :D**_

_**I hope you guys like my writing; I know this is a smaller fanbase (for this couple, anyway - what is it about functioning couples that turns people away?) but I've been itching to post some Peter/El lately, so I hope this is in-character and accepted by most. If you like it, please let me know!**_

_**I noticed that the few stories that have the fantasy Burke pregnancy end tragically, and that made me sad, so I decided to write a happier take on it. This story has no timeline; sometime in the future, maybe. I've avoided the storyline of White Collar because it's always changing, so this is a character-driven fic.**_

_**I plan on posting the whole story over time, so hopefully I'll pick up some readers! Don't forget to review, follow, favorite, etc. I'd really appreciate it!**_

_*** *-TheSongbird341-* ***_

* * *

_DISCLAIMER: As you can well imagine, I don't own White Collar. Sucks, right?  
_


	2. Chapter II

**The Extortionist**

* * *

_When the infamous Extortionist hits NYC, Peter's got his hands full – between leading the investigation no man has completed, protecting his pregnant wife from a kidnapper gunning for her, and keeping Neal under control. Can he keep the inevitable from happening, or will he end up enlisting Neal and Mozzie in a quest to retrieve what has been taken from him?_

* * *

**Chapter II**

* * *

Elizabeth rejoined the two in the den, taking a seat next to her husband and smiling at the two. "So, how was work?"

Peter looked at her and smirked, wrapping an arm around her. "Busy. I'm the leader on a new case."

She raised a curious eyebrow. "... Theft? Fraud? Fill me in."

Neal jumped in, sitting apart from the couple. "Kidnapper. Goes by the name of the Extortionist."

Her eyed widened. "I heard about him a couple years ago. He was in the same city I was when I was on business."

Peter turned to face her. "He was? And you didn't tell me?"

Well, she didn't realize, he supposed, that she was a valid target for the "Extortionist". She _was_ a Federal agent's wife, after all. That's part of the reason Peter was more nervous about this kidnapper.

El frowned. "I didn't want you to worry." After examining his face, she continued. "So where's he headed next?"

Neal shot Peter a look, clearly shouting _"Lie!"_, but Peter ignored him. "Turns out, it's here."

She inhaled sharply. "Here..." she almost-whispered, grip tightening around her husband's arm. Catching the silence hanging over them, she asked, "Well, no one's in danger of anything, right?"

Again, the look was sent to him; Peter dismissed his warning.

"Not exactly..."

Unfortunately, she was a little more insightful than he liked to think. "Don't lie to me. I know that look." She set a hand on his shoulder. "Are you gonna be okay?"

He looked into her eyes. "He won't come after me."

"Are you sure?"

Her imploring, worried crystal-blue eyes were tearing at his façade, but Neal's reptilian eyes were screaming at him, giving him thousands of reasons to shut up and explain no further.

"Neal has a hunch that he's only taking women this year," Peter informed her. He casually forgot to mention that the agents weren't the only targets, but their wives, as well. No need for her to worry about that. "which is why we're not sending any women out on the field."

He seemed to be in the clear. She nodded understandingly, taking his hand in hers. "Ah... But won't that make them that much easier to kidnap?"

Peter looked up from their joined hands and into her eyes. He glanced at Neal quickly, blinking. "It... it could."

Neal smirked. "It definitely could." He stood up and walked to the kitchen, returning with a glass of ice water. "She's right. If we don't have some kind of plan, they're sitting ducks."

El gave him a knowing look. "See?"

Peter glanced between the two. "Well, does anyone have a better idea?"

Neal sat down, sipping his water. Elizabeth rubbed Peter's hand in hers as they thought. Suddenly, her head shot up. "I've got something."

They looked at her. "Shoot."

She pulled her hands from his and moved them as she spoke. "Okay... What if someone from the FBI was kidnapped..."

Peter squinted at her. "Okay..."

"But it was set up?"

Neal nodded. "I'm interested. Go on."

She sat up straighter and continued. "I'm thinking, you guys set up one of the female agents to be kidnapped, something I'm sure this 'Extortioner' or whatever won't be able to resist, and have her wired and tracked so you can find them and catch him in the act."

Neal and Peter exchanged looks. "That's not bad," Peter nodded.

"Solves two problems," Neal agreed. "We find out where he is, and we don't have to worry about who gets taken. Plus, we'll be able to premeditate our actions around the missing agent." He flashed a Cheshire-cat grin at the two of them and finished his water.

Peter turned to El. "Anyway, this whole business is kinda rocky, so... be careful," he warned her, setting a hand on hers.

She arched an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Neal jumped in. "Just keep an eye on your customers. If you see anything suspicious, give me or Peter a call."

"Give me a call," he corrected. "There shouldn't be a problem, but just in case."

Neal looked at him. "Why can't she call me?"

He sighed. "She's my wife, Neal."

"So that means she's not allowed to call me?"

"It's just to keep her safe."

"I'm not safe?"

"No, you're just a little unorthodox."

"This is about handcuffs, isn't it?" He was, of course, referring to when he'd taught El to pick handcuffs.

"You can't go around teaching all these illegal practices!" Peter chided him in frustration.

"It's precautionary, Peter. Every good citizen should know how-"

"You guys!" El stood up and held her hands out. "If there's an issue, I'll call whomever I can reach. Just stop arguing!"

Peter was surprised at her outburst, but rose, as did Neal. "We just want you to be safe."

"Don't worry about me," she sighed. "I... I'm sorry I snapped at you guys. I just need some rest." She didn't need to say more. Elizabeth kissed Peter quickly and walked past him, to the door. "I'll be asleep. Do what you want, just... Don't wake me up."

And she was gone.

Neal chuckled. "And the mood-swings are setting in. You're gonna have your hands full here."

Peter sighed, sitting back down. "I just hope I don't wake her up when I go in."

Neal shook his head. "I would sleep on the couch. A sleepy pregnant woman is not a happy camper."

Peter squinted at Neal. "And what would you know about pregnant women?"

The smooth criminal grinned, setting a hat on his head. "That's for me to know, and you to wonder."

He turned on his heel and exited. Peter rolled his eyes. _Caffrey._

* * *

Peter walked into their bedroom cautiously, but he didn't find El in bed. He changed quickly and slipped into the bed, waiting for Elizabeth to appear.

As if on cue, his wife emerged from the bathroom, clad in a lavender nightgown cut at the knee, strapped, with chiffon quarter-length sleeves. Her dark hair hung around her face, which was void of all make-up but still beautiful.

"Thought you'd be asleep by now."

She shook her head. "I couldn't sleep without you."

Her bright blue eyes glittered in the light of the lamp, making her almost seem surreal, like a plastic doll that would stand in the doorway until moved. However, the idea was proved false as she walked over to the bed and slid under the covers. She snuggled up to him and melted into his form, upon which he wrapped his arms around her and exhaled slowly. His hands landed on her stomach, sending a smile all the way up his body and onto his face.

"You'd better be careful out there," she said quietly, setting her hands on his.

He nodded, kissing her head. "I will be."

El exhaled. "Good." She turned her head sideways to look at him, then at their hands. "Promise?"

"Promise," he whispered, crossing his heart. "I love you, El."

She blinked up at him sleepily. "I love you, too."

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

* * *

_**Thanks for all the reviews on the last chapter! Hopefully this one meets to expectations :)**_

_**This one had a LOT of editing to be done; I wrote it on a lazy summer afternoon, so... yeah. But I think it turned out well. Let me know what you think – leave a review!**_

_*** *-TheSongbird341-* ***_

* * *

_DISCLAIMER: Do I own White Collar? Ha. Haha. HahahahaHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAH A no._


	3. Chapter III

**The Extortionist**

* * *

_When the infamous Extortionist hits NYC, Peter's got his hands full – leading the investigation no man has completed, protecting his pregnant wife from a kidnapper gunning for her, and keeping Neal under control. Can he keep the inevitable from happening, or will he end up enlisting Neal and Mozzie in a quest to retrieve what has been taken from him?_

* * *

**Chapter III**

* * *

_Ponk! Ponk!_

Peter's eyes slowly slid open, a peculiar sound interrupting his sleep. Sitting up, he looked at the clock that read 7:30 and blinked the sleep out of his eyes. At first, he wondered if he'd been imagining the noise, but after a few silent moments it reappeared, making his heart beat a little bit faster.

He quickly turned to El, who was fast asleep, and breathed a sigh of relief. At least she was okay. But what was making the sounds?

He gathered his wits and sat up, stretching his limbs. Stealthily, he stood and grabbed the first item at his disposal; a golf club he'd never used in his life. He cautiously slipped through the door and walked toward the sound, brandishing his club. He rounded the corner of the hallways and glanced down the stairs that lead closer to the sound. Sliding his hand further down the handle of the club, he took the first step down, then the second, and so forth. Soon enough, he reached the bottom of the stairs, where the noises were much more audible. The persistent sounds were coming from the kitchen, so he made his way toward the room. Peeking around the corner, he looked for the source of the noises, and found it instantly: Satchmo.

"Satchmo!" Peter sighed, setting the golf club against the wall. The dog was headfirst and two-paws-deep in the cupboard, clanging the pots around with his slippery claws. The half-asleep man trudged over to the animal and gave his collar a gentle tug. "Get outta there, Satch."

The dog did accordingly, looking up at Peter, long tongue flicking happily. He chuckled at the dog. "You are a mess. Good thing you didn't wake El up."

However, he was proved wrong as he scaled the stairs and found the bedroom empty, El already in the bathroom. He exhaled and walked over to the door. "Sorry we woke you," he called out.

He heard her short-lived laughter on the other side of the door. "Yeah, me too. Love you!"

"Love you, too." He turned and went downstairs to make breakfast.

* * *

Peter's breakfast was, to his chagrin, interrupted by a knock at the door. Knowing exactly who would appear behind the door, he stood and let Neal in. "What do you want, Caffrey?"

Behind the clever Casanova was his questionable sidekick, Mozzie. Peter shook his head, mumbling. "Two people interrupting my breakfast. I get no respect anymore!"

Neal sighed. "Relax, Peter. We're here for Elizabeth."

He squinted. "What do you mean?"

Neal took a seat at the table, followed by Mozzie and Peter. "Well, it's pretty clear that no one likes the prospect of El alone in that store all day, especially being the wife of the _leader_ of this kidnapper's investigation."

Peter nodded. "True. What do you and Mozzie want in this?"

"Mozzie has... volunteered to be our third pair of eyes."

Peter blinked. "What?"

Neal attempted to explain himself. "Look, it's perfect! Mozzie will help Elizabeth at work! So if she feels sick, he'll take over, and if there's a suspicious character, he'll make sure she's not in harm's way!"

Mozzie stepped in. "I'd be more than happy to keep an eye on Mrs. Suit."

Peter was laughing now. "And what do you know about event planning?"

"Nearly as much as you know about a balanced breakfast," Mozzie stated edgewise, eyeing Peter's evidently-insufficient meal.

Mozzie wasn't helping himself, so Neal did. "Mozzie knows the guy in and out. He'll keep El safe until we have one of our own wired and ready to play victim."

"And you're sure of that?" Peter asked.

Neal guaranteed. "Absolutely."

"Your wife is safe with me," Mozzie nodded.

He squinted at him. "I'll bet. No funny business?"

Mozzie shook his head. "You offend me with your lack of faith."

"I'm sure you'll excuse the distrust I have in your antics."

The two looked at the uneasy man. "Fair enough."

Neal nodded. "So do we have ourselves a deal?"

Peter considered it, looked at Mozzie, and sighed. "Drive to her shop at opening. She knows you well enough to trust you. Unfortunately, I don't have that luxury." Peter looked at the two. "Now, go."

They obliged, and Peter finally finished his breakfast before heading out.

* * *

Peter watched the coffee pour into his styrofoam cup, seemingly mesmerized by thoughts of his wife as an open target and the steaming stream of black liquid filling the empty insides of his cup. Would she be okay with Mozzie? He would rather she work at home, but there weren't other people or a police station nearby. It was better to have her in a public setting, with a clear view of who goes in and out; even the idea of her being accompanied by Neal's weasel-faced friend put him more at ease. Not enough ease, though. He still couldn't get the image of El being dragged into a black van out of his head...

"Peter!"

His head snapped up, looking for the man behind the voice. Feeling a sharp sting in his hand, his eyes flicked downward to find his fingers dripping with the blistering-hot coffee that now overflowed onto the table. "Oh!" He jerked backward, sloshing more of the beverage out of his cup and sending it splatting on his shoes. "Woops."

Turned out, the man behind the voice was actually a woman. Lauren Cruz, a fellow agent, chuckled as she lent a hand, grabbing some napkins. "Think you got enough coffee, there?"

Peter half-smiled, wiping his hands and the edges of the dripping cup. "I guess I'm a little distracted."

"Clearly," she stated, stepping forward to wipe the table. "Here, let me help."

"Thanks," He sighed, throwing the napkins in the trash bin. He forced a chuckle and scrambled for something to say before it became awkward. Fortunately, Neal stepped in, grabbing Peter's arm and laughing.

"You and coffee," Neal joked, tugging him away from the scene. He smiled at Lauren. "Would you mind if I borrow Clumsy Smurf for a second?" Of course, she didn't object, so Peter nodded at her and turned to walk with Neal.

"Clumsy Smurf?" Peter questioned. "That's the best you could come up with?"

Neal rolled his eyes. "This is your fifth cup of coffee today, and the second one you spilled; the first being on me!"

Peter sighed. "I know, I know. I'm just a little distracted, is all."

"Well, you'd better not be _too_ distracted, Agent Burke."

The two turned to their superior, Reese Hughes. "We've got ourselves a kidnapper to catch."

Peter set his coffee down. "That's right."

"We have an idea," Neal jumped in. "on how to do that, exactly."

Hughes raised his eyebrows. "Do you? Well, we'll discuss it in the meeting this afternoon." He turned and walked away, leaving the pair to themselves.

Neal looked at Peter. "Mozzie will make sure everything's cool. He's very..." He searched for the right word. "thorough."

Peter grimaced. "I won't argue with that."

"Good," Neal decided. "So, relax with the coffee!" He reached out and snatched Peter's coffee before he could get a sip, then downed half of it in one gulp. "Your fingers are starting to blister," he pointed out before waltzing away. Peter looked down at his now-empty hand and noticed that his fingers were, in fact, beginning to blister.

"Great."

* * *

_**Thanks for reading! I've got some notes for people who DMed me with questions. Here goes.**_

_**1) There will be no "losing-of-the-baby" that I've seen SO many times before. Depressing, okay? Since this story has no time frame, there's no reason to kill off the baby. If anyone's dying, it's an adult.**_

_**2) The relationship between Peter and Mozzie is hostile at best in the beginning of this story. I didn't want them to immediately warm up to each other, so I kept it gradually growing. He's not quite sure he trusts Mozzie, so this protection deal is a big step for him.**_

_**3) Peter's a stress-head at the moment, alright? He's worried about El especially, and the reason behind this unusual uneasiness is unknown right now. But Peter might shed some light on that in the future...**_

_**Well, that's all, so don't forget to review! More reviews means faster updating :)**_

_*** *-TheSongbird341-* ***_

* * *

_DISCLAIMER: I owned White Collar once, in a dream that paralleled no other! But I woke up; therefore, I own it not._


	4. Chapter IV

**The Extortionist**

* * *

_When the infamous Extortionist hits NYC, Peter's got his hands full – leading the investigation no man has completed, protecting his pregnant wife from a kidnapper gunning for her, and keeping Neal under control. Can he keep the inevitable from happening, or will he end up enlisting Neal and Mozzie in a quest to retrieve what has been taken from him?_

* * *

**Chapter IV**

* * *

El was met with a strange sight as she unlocked her shop, and she couldn't help but feel suspicious of Peter and Neal's involvement in the man standing before her, waving slyly.

"Mozzie?" she asked curiously, tilting her head sideways. "What are you doing here?"

He shifted his gaze from the woman starting up the stairs toward him. "You know, just hanging around..."

El huffed, tugging at her ponytail. "Did Peter send you?"

"In love, Mrs. Suit. In love." It was silent, save for the broken wind chimes across the street jingling in the wind. "I was sent to keep you company."

Crystal-blue eyes rolled back into her head. "Great. So my customers have to walk by and see you loitering outside all day?"

Mozzie felt quite unable to form words under the, admittedly, stunning gaze of the Suit's wife, but figured he had to say something. "Actually, it's much warmer inside, so I was thinking..."

El stopped glaring at him and exhaled, her anger dissipating. "Come on, Moz." She fumbled in her pockets for her keys and finally pulled them out of her left pocket, inserting them in the door. The bell rang as she swung the door open, dropping her purse under the counter and leading Mozzie in. If her husband wanted him there, she supposed she could manage having him around.

And looking at the man sitting uncomfortably in a tall chair across the room, she thought, for a second, that he seemed almost harmless. Perhaps he could be an asset rather than a liability.

"Okay," Elizabeth gathered her wits as she flipped the 'OPEN' sign on. "Since those two crazy men sent you here on my behalf, and you're probably getting something in return, I might as well put you to good use. Follow me!"

She heard his footsteps behind her as she lead him to the back room, where supplies were kept and her computer was placed. The walls were fully organized with shelves of everything from wine samples to tablecloths. Her computer desk, however, was a clutter of bills, sticky-notes and phonebooks. It was order and chaos, all in the same 15-by-15 room. Mozzie seemed like an 'order-and-chaos' kind of guy.

"Nice workspace," he observed, walking up to the computer and examining the shelves.

"I like to think so," she smiled. Suddenly, a plan to keep Mozzie _and_ Peter out of her work arose in her mind, and she continued. "It would be a great help if you could take inventory for me."

Mozzie's eyes widened as the shelves appeared to grow larger. "Inventory..."

Elizabeth blinked innocently. "Is that a problem? 'Cause I can find you something else..."

He shook his head. "No, no. I can manage some inventory, I guess."

She smiled. "Thank you, Mozzie. Just let me know when you're done!" Before he could change his mind, she turned and walked out, ready to face the work day _without_ constant surveillance.

But when small crashes and cries of "My bad!" erupted from the room ten minutes later, El wasn't quite so satisfied with her decision.

* * *

"We have an idea."

All heads turned to Neal Caffrey, leaned back in his chair, hand raised as one would picture a schoolchild would do. "We were just getting to that, Mr. Caffrey," Hughes admitted, crossing his arms. "Impress us."

Neal and Peter exchanged glances, then proceeded to explain. Peter began. "So, this Extortionist always takes one federal agent, as I'm told. This year will be all women, as we've predicted..."

"So, why don't we prepare one of our women a little better than our kidnapper anticipates?" Neal finished, grinning.

Jones raised his eyebrows. "You mean, setting up a victim to be kidnapped?" he asked incredulously.

Peter shook his head. "Not a victim. She'll be wired and monitored, so even if she's blindfolded, tranquilized, etc., we'll be able to trace her straight to the kidnapper and close in before he can escape."

"And what if something were to happen to the agent?" Lauren asked, knowing fully well that she could be that agent.

"We'll step in before anyone gets hurt," Neal assured her. "Our only issue is time. If I know this guy as well as I think I do, which I do, then he'll be taking his first victim this weekend, then the next two over the span of three days; which means-"

"That we'll need our agent wired and set with a time and open location within the next two days," Peter concluded, clasping his hands together. "Thoughts?"

Hughes rubbed his lips together. "Rough time slot, but we can make it work."

"It's the best we've got," Jones echoed, shrugging.

Neal nodded. "Interesting question is..." He glanced around the table. "who gets to play victim for a day?"

Hughes scrutinized the table. "You're the leader of the case, Burke. Who would you recommend?"

Peter shrugged. "Agent Berrigan is great undercover. Is she in today?"

Jones shook his head. "She's on vacation, in Cancun. But she's expecting to get in this evening."

Hughes nodded. "I'll put her on the case." He looked at Lauren. "Would you get her on the phone?"

Lauren nodded and exited the room quickly. Neal looked over at Peter and grinned, holding up a fist expectantly. Peter eyed it for a moment and declined, pushing Neal's fist back onto the table.

"This had better work," he warned the satisfied consultant.

"It will."

* * *

Elizabeth sighed as, for the fifth time in the past hour, she was called for; addressed as "Mrs. Suit." Every time the name was shouted from the back room, her customers gave her a strange look, one that followed her every step she took into the room and back.

She was trying to be nice to Mozzie, but she really didn't care if he categorized the wine by name or quality; she just didn't care! Still, she walked back every time and helped him with whatever trivial matter he faced.

"Yes, Mozzie?" El asked quietly, trying not to grit her teeth.

The sun-glassed man stared up at the shelves, holding a wine bottle in each hand, and said, "I don't mean to interrupt, but I was wondering what I should do about these extra two bottles..."

She arched an eyebrow. "What do you mean? Can't they go on the shelf?"

Mozzie cocked his head to the side. "No. Well, yes, but I mean, I'd have to put a whole extra page on the wine list, and all that would be on it is two names. I've tried squeezing them in, but-"

"Mozzie!" she reprimanded gently. "It's fine; just don't put them on the list."

He made a 'hmm' sound. "I-I don't know... I could just take them home with me, and you'd have a nice even list..."

She shook her head, exhaling sharply. Just like Mozzie to try to score himself two free bottles of wine. She knew he was out of his element, but did he have to be so aggravating? Maybe it was pregnancy hormones, but she found herself nearly unable to put up with him at the moment. "Mozzie, I still need them. Just put them back on the shelf and forget the list." He looked at her oddly, then followed her order.

"Are we closing up?" Mozzie asked.

El nodded, half-exasperated and half-relieved. "Yes. Yes, we're closing."

"Great! I'm starved," he nodded, leaving the room.

El bit her lip as she turned off her computer. She was hungry, too. She had hardly eaten a thing, thanks to morning sickness. In all honesty, there wasn't a thing in the shop she wouldn't give for a chicken wrap at Rigley's.

"Hey, Moz," she called out. "You got a ride home?"

Elizabeth walked out of the room, finding Mozzie fiddling with the blinds on a window. He turned to her and shook his head.

"Nah, I'm gonna walk over to Neal's." He began inspecting a fern.

She lifted her lower lip, scrutinizing him. "I could drive you, if you want."

He shook his head. "Oh, no. I'm fine."

Suddenly, the room was filled with music; El's ringtone. It took her a second to recognize the sound, and another to whip her phone out of her purse and answer it. "Hello?"

Her husband's voice came crackling over the phone. _"Hey, hon. You okay?"_

"Oh, hey Peter!" she smiled. "Yeah, I'm fine. Why?"

_"No reason."_

She blinked. "Alright. Where are you?"

_"At Neal's place. Could be here for a while."_

El glanced up at Mozzie. "Mind if I drop by? I can pick up some food on the way."

_"That's fine. We're just talking about the case. Might be kind of boring."_

She chuckled. "Never stopped me before." Unlocking the door, she continued. "Mozzie's here, and headed the same way I am, so I'll give him a ride. What would you and Neal like from Rigley's?"

Elizabeth closed the door behind her and Mozzie, and heard the phone go on speakerphone. Neal's voice echoed into the receiver. She wrote his order on her arm quickly, then put in Peter's, Mozzie's and hers. With an "I love you" and a blown kiss, she hung up and invited Mozzie for a ride, to which he obliged gleefully.

Elizabeth turned the key in the ignition and started the engine. Her hand immediately flew to the radio, flipping through stations until she found a song she liked. Mozzie sat silently as she hummed along to the song, glancing out the window at the sylvan scenes passing them by. When the song ended and a new, unfamiliar one began, she decided to make conversation. "So... How — how are things?" she stuttered.

"Good, good," he nodded. "The weather's been, you know-"

"Chilly," she supplied, turning down a street toward Rigley's. "Do you go out much?"

He shrugged. "I usually walk."

"Oh. Well, that's-" El paused as they pulled into the drive-thru and she was asked for their orders. Placing their orders, Elizabeth decided that "working" with Mozzie might be a little harder than she thought.

* * *

_**Chapter 4 :) Not much happening yet, I know. The first ten chapters are the backbone of the whole story, followed by ten of the more action-y parts, followed by the ten resolution chapters. I felt like this was really spaced out and nice, so I hope you agree.**_

_**Just to warn anyone: I have read but a few White Collar fanfics (usually they're all about Neal and Peter, which isn't bad, but I'm not a slash fan) and they were Peter/El (I think one was about their wedding. It was great!) so if you see anything you think is familiar, it's not intentional. I haven't read any fanfiction in the past four months as I worked this story out, so I haven't had anything to base it on other than the actual TV show.**_

_**Please review! More reviews means sooner updates :)**_

_*** *-TheSongbird341-* ***_

* * *

_DISCLAIMER: If I owned White Collar, I'd at least have a more comfortable chair._


	5. Chapter V

**The Extortionist**

* * *

_When the infamous Extortionist hits NYC, Peter's got his hands full – leading the investigation no man has completed, protecting his pregnant wife from a kidnapper gunning for her, and keeping Neal under control. Can he keep the inevitable from happening, or will he end up enlisting Neal and Mozzie in a quest to retrieve what has been taken from him?_

* * *

**Chapter V**

* * *

Elizabeth walked up to the door, about to knock, pulling her thin blazer tighter around herself. Mozzie was out with the car, carrying the groceries he insisted she not handle, being "with child", as he'd described. She could only sigh and relent. That was a modern man's way of being chivalrous, she supposed.

At the thought of chivalrous men, she remembered that her husband waited behind the door she almost opened. Almost. But her hand froze on the handle as she overheard the conversation between the men.

"And what if it doesn't work?" That was Peter.

"It will!" said Neal.

Elizabeth's eyebrows were wrought together. What were they talking about?

"That guy," Peter protested. "is smart. What if he catches on and decides to take it out on us?" More confusion...

"Nothing will happen to her."

El sucked in a silent breath, eyes widening. They weren't talking about the kidnapper, were they?

"Mrs. Suit?"

She jumped as Mozzie appeared behind her, holding their food and drinks. "Mozzie!"

He raised his eyebrows. "You alright?"

She nodded quickly, running her fingers through her hair. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." To avoid further conversation, she knocked on the door and waited for an answer.

Soon, the door opened, and Neal's face appeared in its place. "Hey, Elizabeth, Mozzie. Come on in."

She smiled at him and walked in, looking around the room. Peter turned and spotted her, smiling.

He stood and walked over to her, wrapping an arm around her and kissing her quickly. She lingered for a moment, smiling up at him.

"Hey, honey," she greeted him.

"Hey, yourself." Peter looked down at her, taking her hands in his. Catching sight of the smeared ink on her left forearm, he gave her a questioning look; she only responded with a kiss on the cheek. Peter led her by the hand to the table and pulled out her chair. He walked over to Neal, who was helping Mozzie with the food, and started pulling out their orders. Spotting El's, he took it out and sent it gliding across the table, ending up in front of her. Neal and Peter grabbed theirs as Mozzie hung his coat on the old-fashioned coatrack.

"How was your day, El?" Peter asked, only half-interested in her day and half-interested in his food.

She replied anyway. "It was..." Sparing a quick glance at Mozzie, she supplied, "interesting." Peter caught the look and smirked at her, raising his eyebrows. "Picked up a big event this weekend. I need to call in an exterminator; this bee's nest outside of the shop keeps stinging my customers!" She glanced at Mozzie quickly, then back at the other two. "How was you guys' day?"

The two men exchanged looks. "Eventful," Neal suggested.

She nodded. "Did they like your idea?"

"You mean your idea?" Peter corrected her. "Yeah, they're on board."

"Got your girl?"

"Diana," Neal answered.

"You've met her, El," Peter reminded her before taking a big bite of his sandwich.

She raised her eyebrows when an image came to her head. "Dark hair, slight accent..."

"That's the one." Neal nodded, looking at Mozzie. "She's the one who..."

"Oh..." Mozzie seemed to recall her.

"Yeah..."

"She did the-"

"Yes."

"Oh, yes."

El looked at Peter for any kind of clue as to what they weren't saying, but he looked just as bewildered.

Peter cleared his throat. "Anyway, we've got a basic plan. Thing is, we don't know when to put in action."

She stared at the two as she chewed her chicken wrap. She swallowed and asked, "Why don't you just catch the guy as soon as you get his location?"

Peter sighed. "That's what I suggested, but Neal says-"

"It's a bad idea," Neal cut him off. "The longer nothing happens, the more secure our kidnapper feels. He lets his guard down a little, and we move in. It's the easiest way."

"But what if there's an issue," El disagreed. "like... she stops transmitting?" They all looked at her.

"You know, if he figures you guys out; gets rid of the wire..."

Peter caught onto her trail. "And then moves to a new location."

Neal exhaled. "Then we'd have a missing agent and not a single lead on where she is."

"The longer you wait, the more time he has to figure it out," Elizabeth pointed out.

"What if you did it in the middle?"

They turned to Mozzie. "What do you mean?" Peter asked curiously.

"Well, our kidnapper changes his location every time he gets a new victim, correct?" Everyone nodded. "What if you catch him on the way?"

Peter pushed his food in and asked, "You mean, cornering him on the road?"

"Precisely."

* * *

"What kind of routes does he usually take?" Peter asked, leaning his elbows on his knees. Two hours after dinner, he and Neal were on the couch, across from Mozzie, who sat on the recliner closest to the TV.

Neal looked at Mozzie, who explained. "Not what you would think. Usually people trying to fly under the radar get out of plain sight, but that's the best place to hide. He uses common-sight vehicles, takes the highway, and only branches off when he has to."

Neal nodded. "Guy's smart."

"It would appear so," Peter agreed, glancing at the muted TV, then at the occupied chair to his right. Elizabeth was asleep, curled slightly, resting her head against the back of the chair. In her sleep she looked... cute; hair let down and flowing around her face, breathing slowly, eyelashes fluttering against her pink cheeks. He feigned a smile, but looked away and focused on the kidnapper. "What kind of cars are we talking?"

Mozzie shrugged. "Usually big vehicles. I recall that he once tranquilized his three victims and hid them under a tarp in the back of a truck."

Neal grimaced. "And no one checks the back of a redneck's truck."

Peter chuckled humorlessly. "So, he's not our standard black-van kind of guy. I can't decide if that's a good thing or not."

Mozzie shook his head. "Definitely not. He blends too well in a crowd."

Peter squinted at him. "How do you know so much about this guy?"

The room fell silent, a slight awkwardness hanging over the three people. Neal stared at Mozzie, who seemed to give him a look. His question had been only half-serious, but they took it very literally. Suddenly, Neal turned to Peter and said,

"Moz used to run with the guy."

Peter's eyebrows shot up, and if it weren't for his sleeping wife, he would have raised his voice. "You _know_ him? You _worked_ with him?"

"Hey, hold on!" Mozzie flew to his own defense, throwing his hands up. "I never saw the guy! It was indirect. All I know about him was gathered by word of mouth."

"How long did you work for him?"

"With him!" he protested. "I don't work _for_ any-"

"Mozzie!" Neal stopped him.

"Two years," Mozzie sighed. "Two abductions. I was working the outside stuff; nothing close enough to be pinned on. I caught onto some of the stuff going on, so they canned me." He sighed. "I guess my conscience got the best of me."

Peter nodded, trying to wrap his head around this. _Mozzie worked with a kidnapper._

Suddenly, June, Neal's "landlord", knocked on the door and stepped in. They all turned to the smiling woman in a nightgown, and she spoke.

"Neal, I'm going to sleep now. If you could keep it quiet down here, I'd appreciate it."

Neal turned and nodded to June. "Absolutely." She exited, leaving the room silent, and they all looked at each other again.

"Actually, we'd better get going," Peter admitted, standing up. "It's late..."

"See you tomorrow, then," Neal nodded, standing as well. Mozzie remained seated and silent.

"Yeah." Peter walked over to El and looked at her for a moment, not wanting to wake her. He decided to let her sleep, and picked her up, one arm under her shoulders and one under her knees. She didn't wake up; her head fell to rest on his shoulder and her hands pressed against his chest lightly. He turned to the door and carried her out, nodding goodbye to the others.

But before he left, Neal ran out and stopped him in the hallway. "Peter!"

Peter turned to find his friend running after him, holding a blanket. Neal handed it to him, but with no way to receive it, laid it on the sleeping Elizabeth.

They stood wordless, so Neal whispered "It's cold."

Peter nodded, his breath fogging the air. "Thanks."

"Peter, Mozzie's not-"

"I know," he assured Neal. "It was just unexpected, that's all..."

Neal exhaled, looking down at El. "Still, I wouldn't tell her about it. You know, until this whole thing is over with."

He agreed. "That's probably for the best."

* * *

_**Hey guys! Sorry about the late update, but the holidays have been so busy, I decided to take a Holiday Hiatus. Said hiatus has now reached its end, and I'm back to updating. Good to be back :)**_

_**This chapter is very important in the storyline, as it explains a little bit of Mozzie's background with the Extortionist. Back when I wrote this, I wasn't expecting it to turn out with Mozzie's involvement, but come on, he obviously has a past. I mean, he's no kidnapper; he backed out as soon as he figured out what went on. But this piece of information may play into future confrontations...**_

_**Happy New Year's Eve!**_

_*** *-TheSongbird341-* ***_

* * *

_DISCLAIMER: I asked Santa for White Collar this Christmas. He just kinda laughed. I'm still waiting, Santa..._


	6. Chapter VI

**The Extortionist**

* * *

_When the infamous Extortionist hits NYC, Peter's got his hands full – between leading the investigation no man has completed, protecting his pregnant wife from a kidnapper gunning for her, and keeping Neal under control. Can he keep the inevitable from happening, or will he end up enlisting Neal and Mozzie in a quest to retrieve what has been taken from him?_

* * *

**Chapter VI**

* * *

Peter woke in a position almost too comfortable to leave; El lying with her head on his shoulder, his arms wrapped around her, her fingers entwined in his. He wouldn't have minded staying like that forever, but eventually, the glare of the alarm clock in his peripheral vision was enough to, sighing heavily, send him out of the bed. He didn't want to wake Elizabeth, so he grabbed his clothes and anything else he needed to get ready for work and headed into the bathroom, trying to keep quiet.

As he stepped into the shower, he mentally ran through the motions of today; two-day deadline, meeting with Diana and strategizing today, El's doctor appointment that weekend, need to talk with Mozzie about kidnapper...

_Mozzie_.

Peter didn't resent the man for running with a bad crowd, but it was still a little shocking. And good, perhaps. They'd need any insider's information he could expel on the Extortionist.

Then what was making him so uneasy?

The answer was simple; Elizabeth Burke.

Mozzie was supposed to be keeping an eye on her at her shop. She had no idea about the whole ordeal, but Peter did, and it made it that much harder to send her off to the shop. He casually slipped in the idea of Yvonne taking over for her every once in a while, but she didn't pay any mind. El was a working woman, and she would be working from home and having Yvonne take over enough when she was further along. Now Peter had more reason for her to stay home, but he couldn't tell her that. Not yet, anyway.

He dried off and began getting dressed, racing thoughts tempting him to go back to sleep and ignore the problems. However, other people's jobs, reputations, and lives were at stake.

But perhaps it was better to go about such issues after some breakfast.

Apparently he'd woken his wife, because when he opened the door she stood outside, rocking on her heels, hands clasped together behind her back. Peter blinked at his wife, a questionable look in his eye, when realization hit him and he stepped out of the way quickly, just avoiding the woman running into the bathroom. Had she been waiting for him this whole time? He would have apologized, but from the sound of it, it wasn't the time to talk.

* * *

Elizabeth quickly ran out of the restroom, relieved that the morning-sickness wasn't quite as bad as it had been yesterday. Close, but not as bad. She'd made it out of there with yesterday's chicken wrap in her stomach, which she called a win.

She wanted to hurry downstairs and ask Peter about yesterday evening before he left for work. She only remembered feeling terribly tired, and then waking up in her own bed. Quickly she showered, dressed, and ran downstairs to meet her husband. He sat at the dining table, coffee in one hand and newspaper in the other. He grinned at the sight of her and motioned her to the table.

El walked over to Peter and hugged him from behind, kissed his cheek and whispering, "When did I fall asleep?"

He chuckled. "You didn't make it too far past dinner."

She shrugged. "It was a late dinner."

And without another word he tilted his head and captured her lips in his, engaging in a kiss he'd been waiting to deliver and she'd been eager to receive all morning. She'd been so... _cute _last night; he'd more than wanted to muss her smooth hair and smear her perfectly-applied lipstick. He'd waited long enough.

She was on his lap, a leg on either side of his, with their arms wrapped around each other when the door opened. Neal stepped into the hallway, staring at the two. They hadn't noticed at first, continuing in their actions until he cleared his throat. Their lips froze at the sound; slowly they parted, Elizabeth inching off his lap and Peter untangling his fingers from her hair, smoothing it down. The two looked at Neal, faces flushed.

"Neal, would it kill you to knock?" Peter asked calmly, though anger underlined his voice. Every time the couple were enjoying time alone, Neal walked in and ruined it. After years of doing so, it was starting to become annoying.

Neal threw his hands up, looking apologetic. "Sorry! I didn't get the memo that it was Happy Hour for the Burkes this morning."

Peter glanced at Elizabeth, whose face was a deep shade of red. She glanced down at her shoes, laughing nervously.

He set his jaw. "Shut up, Neal." Elizabeth shot him a look telling him not to take things so seriously (he'd recognized the look after a while) so he relaxed a little.

"Any reason you burst in on us?" Peter squinted at Neal was shifting his gaze between Peter and Elizabeth quickly. He stopped on Peter and gave him a questioning look.

"Could I... speak to you in the hall, Peter?" he asked cautiously. Peter nodded and smiled weakly at El, who was still feverishly pink. Standing, he followed Neal into away from the kitchen, wondering what on earth he wanted.

Neal stopped behind the stairs and turned to Peter, who stumbled at the abrupt stop and almost collided into him. "Did you tell her...?" he whispered, eyeing the woman that now played with the Burkes' dog, Satchmo, in the kitchen.

Peter turned to watch her as well, shaking his head. "Nope. She's blissfully unaware." He looked at Neal. "You could have called if that's all."

"It's not," he admitted, resting his hand on the railing of the stairs. "Mozzie wanted me to deliver a message before El left."

Peter raised his eyebrows. "Why's that?"

"So you could ask her about it," he answered, looking at his hand briefly. "Mozzie says Elizabeth's been receiving some love notes."

Peter blinked. "El gets love notes from customers all the time."

"But when Moz was taking inventory..."

_Inventory,_ Peter mused, smirking to himself. That's what El had him do to keep him out of the way when they were dating.

"He saw them and decided to play around with them, but after folding them a few ways, he found they were a little more..." Neal searched for the word. "_sinister_ than they first came off." He pulled a piece of creased paper with printed words on it. By the looks of it, some poor sucker was almost as in love with her as he was.

Peter's brow furrowed as he took the note. "What do you mean?"

Neal exhaled and continued. "He tried out one of the Extortionist's old patterns," He reached out, flipped the page sideways, folded it four times, then turned it back. It read the words _"This year it's you."_

Peter sucked in a breath. "Maybe Mozzie's just being-"

"Peter, we need to set up this abduction, and soon," Neal decided. "I think El's in trouble."

Peter's grip on his coffee cup tightened and he cleared his throat. "No. No, she's not." He grabbed the note and shoved it in his pocket. "Mozzie's paranoid," He took a sip of his coffee. "And that's all it comes down to."

Neal sighed. "Still," he began, slipping a hat on his head. "Talk to her about it."

He turned and walked to the exit, waving his goodbyes to Elizabeth. Peter stood for a moment, pulling the note out and looking at it again. It was convincing, but he just didn't want to believe it.

He returned to the kitchen with a grim expression on his face, though trying to hide it. El caught on anyway and frowned. "Is there something wrong?"

He slumped into his seat next to her. "Have you been getting love notes?"

She blinked at him, setting a hand on his shoulder. "Honey, you know-"

"I know," he assured her, taking her hand in his. Peter looked her straight in her blue eyes and quietly said, "Neal's just concerned..."

"They're harmless, really," she whispered, smoothing his hair back with her fingers. "Why are you so worried?"

Peter blinked, considering his answer. He decided she didn't need to worry. "No reason," he muttered, setting a finger under her chin. "Neal's just nosy." Without further ado he guided her lips to his and kissed her, hopefully distracting her from any more questions.

It seemed to work, because she pulled away and wished him good luck without another word about the notes.

* * *

Elizabeth repeated yesterday's actions, allowing Mozzie in and setting up for customers. By the time she flipped the sign to say 'Open', he was eager to find work.

She bit her lip as thoughts of what he could accomplish without really accomplishing anything raced through her mind. "Actually, I just need to sort through some bills..." she decided, though she really wanted to take another look at those love-letters. "Could you just sit out here and call me if any customers arrive?"

Mozzie squinted at the seemingly pointless job, but she gave him no time to disapprove. "I'll be quick." Flashing him a pink-lipped smile, she zipped into the back room and fell into her office chair, letting it spin her around for a moment. Eventually she set her hands on the desk to stop the rotation and scooted closer to the desk.

_Yikes._

The desktop was a cluttered mess of papers, so vast and white that she felt the beginnings of an impending headache setting in. Still, she pushed through and searched for the notes amongst the disaster before her.

El frowned when only the most recent of the, as far as she could recall, three notes appeared, but it was something, and something definitely wasn't nothing. She read it quietly to herself.

_"Dearest Elizabeth,_

_I have a special delivery_

_for you. It truly is coming_

_from my heart, with_

_love. There isn't a price_

_I would hesitate to pay_

_for you._

_From your admirer."_

El eyed the paper with printed — not handwritten — words scrawled in an unfamiliar font. "Precariously worded," she decided, turning it sideways and upside-down. She knew Neal and Peter had some strange interest in them, so there must be something there. She just couldn't see what they thought was corrupt about simple love notes. She couldn't see why Mozzie was snooping through her mail. And she just couldn't see what Neal and Peter were keeping from her! What plan were they talking about?

She was still staring at the note, thoughts racing, when her stomach did a flip. Her eyes widened and she repositioned herself, hoping it was merely a cramp or just a small discomfort. Unfortunately, "hoping" didn't control her morning sickness, which was making a much-displeasing reappearance. Without warning, she grabbed her stomach and ran to the restroom in the back, paying no heed to the note, the shop, or Mozzie.

* * *

Peter and Neal weren't the last to arrive at the meeting this time. They were already seated, filling everyone in on the intelligence they'd gathered from a "resource", namely Mozzie, when Diana walked in. The whole room silenced at her entrance, but she pretended not to notice and took her seat.

Hughes nodded to her curtly. "Mrs. Berrigan, we were just beginning," he informed her, leaning into the table. "Do you need a briefing?"

She shifted in her seat, pulling a file out of her bag. "No, no. Lauren briefed me on the phone."

Jones nodded. "So, we've decided to intercept our Extortionist on the road, correct?" Everyone nodded. "If he only takes busy routes, how do we get him alone?"

Neal sat up straighter. "That's just the thing. See, Mo-" he paused. "...our resource, has suggested that we follow the highway," he began, taking the small white marker on the map of the highway and moving it farther ahead of the black marker. "two steps ahead."

Everyone eyed him, so he continued. "When we catch sight of where the tracker's headed," he gestured to Diana. "thanks to our undercover agent, we'll head down the same path, find all the escape-roads, and block them off. That way, wherever he goes," he picked up the black piece and flipped it in his hand. "we've got him."

Peter didn't know whether to grimace or chuckle at the man's theatrics. It was unsettling but also interesting to watch the one man who can pull off such actions do what he does so well: bewilder everyone.

Peter nodded. "That's good." He eyed the piece in his comrade's hand. "What happens when we corner him? I mean, can't he just run?"

"We'll have him surrounded," Hughes decided.

"And if he has a big vehicle?" Agent Cruz asked. "Couldn't he just run us through?"

Diana set the file on the table, opening it up. "I've read up on our kidnapper's files. He never uses the same vehicle twice." She turned it to face the others. "So far the biggest vehicle he hasn't used so far is an eighteen-wheeler, followed by-"

"An eighteen-wheeler..." Peter muttered, tapping his fingers on the desk. "What vehicles do we have to top that?"

Hughes shrugged. "I'll have someone look into it. In the meantime, Agent Burke, would you run Agent Berrigan through the motions she'll experience during the abduction? Agent Jones, you'll be letting out the information on this case to the rest of the bureau. Make sure no one even thinks about putting up the ransom money once Diana goes in tomorrow night!" Everyone nodded, receiving their orders. "Dismissed."

* * *

_**Of Happy Hour and Love Notes? Sounds less sinister than it is.**_

_**So... what does Mozzie see in these love notes? And is there a hidden message in the latest one El received?**_

_**Thanks for reading! We're getting closer and closer to the action :) Chapter 9-10 is where it all begins, and I can't wait to post it. I have a good feeling about it :)**_

_**Read, favorite, follow, review, etc. It's reader's sin to read and not review, so pretty-please let me know what you think :)**_

_*** *-TheSongbird341-* ***_

* * *

_DISCLAIMER: I don't own White Collar, but if I did, you know we'd have more shirtless Neal, cute Peter/El, and more overall Mozzie in the season premiere coming up. Cross your fingers!_


	7. Chapter VII

**The Extortionist**

* * *

_When the infamous Extortionist hits NYC, Peter's got his hands full – between leading the investigation no man has completed, protecting his pregnant wife from a kidnapper gunning for her, and keeping Neal under control. Can he keep the inevitable from happening, or will he end up enlisting Neal and Mozzie in a quest to retrieve what has been taken from him?_

* * *

**Chapter VII**

* * *

"Excuse me, are you an employee here?"

Mozzie looked up from his book, blinking wide, deer-caught-in-headlights eyes at the woman. "More of an assistant, really." He stood up and straightened his shirt, glancing backward at where Elizabeth was. "An intern, if you will..." He held up a hand. "If you would excuse me for just a moment..."

He took off into the back room, finding it empty. A small wave of panic shot through him until he spotted the bathroom door locked with the light on. She must have been in there.

A new worry arose inside him; how was he going to deal with that customer? He hadn't the slightest idea how to plan events!

He waited for a minute, pacing back and forth, but the Suit's wife didn't look to be making an appearance any time soon. Reluctantly, he grabbed a pen and pad, took a breath, and stepped back in the main room with the impatient customer.

"H-hi," Mozzie stuttered, pressing the button on the pen nervously. "Mrs. Sui- _Burke_, won't be present for a while yet. I'm not exactly educated in the art of, um, event-planning, but I'd be glad to help you with anything amongst my capabilities."

The woman smiled, though it wasn't as warm as she might have been expecting it to appear. He didn't expect any expression to look becoming on the woman's pale, pinched up face. He remarked inwardly that she looked as if a toddler grabbed her nose and pulled it, holding it there for days.

"I suppose that wouldn't be a _major_ setback," she muttered, taking a seat at a small table and gesturing for him to do the same. He followed accordingly, sitting and picking up a large book he'd seen Elizabeth use the day before. Hopefully there was some kind of manual or to-do list he could harvest information from. Mozzie was disappointed to find schedules, dates and arrangements in neat scribblings that meant nothing to him.

He looked up at the woman sitting across from him, rather uncomfortably. "Hello. I'm M... Michael Forger." He fought back a grimace at the awful alias he'd just bestowed upon himself without a thought. Michael Forger? How could he have been so stupid? He was now cursed with the false name for the rest of the evening.

The woman grinned falsely, shaking his hand fleetingly. "I'm Millicent Ghirard."

He smiled just as falsely as she, not even looking up from the book he anxiously flipped through. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ms. Ghirard. Can I call you Millie?"

"No," she answered quickly, sending a sharp self-scolding through his system.

"Right. My apologies," he resigned, clicking his pen furiously. His agitation grew as he found no comfort in the pages of the thick book. Mozzie knew that he couldn't lose this sale for Elizabeth, or he'd be sent back to take inventory.

So, "Michael" took a breath and asked, "So, how can I help you today, Ms. Ghirard?"

The woman pulled a notebook out of her rather-voluminous purse and opened it, clicking a pen of her own. "I'm planning my daughter's birthday celebration. I worked with Mrs. Burke for my first wedding, and everything was lovely save for the groom, so I thought I'd like to work with her again." The woman scanned the room around them. "She still works here, right?"

He raised an eyebrow, then nodded. "Oh yes, she still works here. She's just... Well, turns out she's, um, expecting... And so, she is in the back, just, um..." His voice trailed off, and Millicent didn't ask for further explanation. Letting the question go, he approached the topic of the actual event again. "So, how old is your daughter?"

She laughed bitterly. "She's 16, and every year shows."

He shrugged. "Teenagers. They're so..." He searched for the word, but couldn't find one.

Honestly, he had _no_ idea how he had even planned to finish that sentence in the first place.

So he sat awkwardly, shifting his weight and clicking his pen. When the silence was getting too long, he let the sentence finish itself and continued with the job at hand.

"What's her name?"

"Susan," she grumbled. "but, for some reason I can't understand, she asks her little delinquent friends to call her Sooze. Why she does it is beyond me. Susan is a perfectly good name!" the woman ranted. Mozzie didn't interrupt; it bought him time until Elizabeth returned. He just pretended to write things down as she spoke.

"Her grandmother was named Susan! It's a lovely name, is it not?"

Mozzie looked up. "Susan," he echoed, nodding. "It means 'the lily'."

"I'm allergic to lilies."

"Me too," he stuttered quickly, unsure of exactly _how _to speak with this woman without setting off sirens. With the conversation becoming dangerously dull, he sighed and again redirected the conversation. "What kind of interests would you say your daughter is into?"

She squinted at him. "She's always talking about the "music" she listens to, which is really just garbage, if you ask me." He wanted to inform her that he, in fact, wasn't asking her, but decided to let her go on. "She always wears and decorates things in black. Everything she owns is painted or covered with black. She has a piercing in her tongue that I've begged her to take out, but of course she won't listen to me! The girl has to talk around a giant silver ball in her mouth! She sounds like she's talking with her tongue hanging out of her mouth!"

"Ms. Ghirard!"

Mozzie breathed a sigh of relief at the sound of Mrs. Suit's voice behind him. He was tired of playing therapist with her customer.

However, the look on her face made his blood run cold. Her skin was pale and her eyes looked spent, as though her sickness had taken a great toll on her. Mozzie offered her a weak smile, but the menacing expression he was sure accompanied his from behind was probably enough to make him disappear.

"Mrs. Burke," Millicent greeted her briskly. "It's lovely to see you. I've already had the pleasure of meeting your assistant." Mozzie looked away from the two pairs of eyes staring him down.

He turned and grimaced at the customer. "It's more of an internship-"

"Mozzie," the usually-happy voice whispered calmly. He turned and looked into the woman's burning blue eyes and at her flushed cheeks. "Could you go file these away for me?" Elizabeth grabbed some files from the countertop next to her and handed them to him not-quite-lovingly. He frowned and took them to the back room, catching Ms. Ghirard's questioning of her calling him "Mozzie" and stifling a guilty laugh.

* * *

After running through some precautions with Diana, Neal found Peter in his office, staring at his desktop, eyes void of emotion. "Hey, Peter."

He looked up, leaning on his fist thoughtfully. "Oh, Neal. What do you need?"

Neal shrugged, sitting in Peter's spare chair and propping his feet on the desk. "Nothing. What are you looking at?"

Peter was silent for a moment. "Just old kidnapper files. He's only taken three females from the bureau before."

Neal shrugged. "So?"

Peter turned his chair to look at him, arm extended to tap the edge of keyboard slowly. "So, how do we know he'll take the bait?"

Neal glanced over at the screen. "Because he's taking all women this year, according to Mozzie's and my estimates."

Peter looked at him in concern. "I mean, how do we know he won't go after wives instead?"

He sighed. "Peter, Elizabeth is-"

"I'm not the _only_ agent with a wife, Neal," he snapped. Neal fell silent.

He huffed. "I'm sorry. It's just-"

"Stress?" Caffrey supplied, received with a nod. "Just relax. Everything will go as planned. Diana's got too many friends and family members; too much federal history, to pass up on. We just have to keep everyone else safe for one more night. That's all."

Peter opened his mouth to speak, but stopped short. Neal was right. He needed to stop fussing and devote himself to this case before anyone else got hurt.

"It just doesn't feel right," he said grimly.

Neal shook his head. "Not yet. What's gonna feel right is when we have this Extortionist behind bars and these cases are over and done with." He set a hand on his friend's shoulder casually. "You're the only one that can get us there, though."

Peter met his eyes, then nodded. "I guess you're right."

Neal grinned, standing up. "Of course I am."

* * *

"Moz!" Elizabeth called out, waving farewell to their last customer of the day. "We're closing up! You want a ride home?"

Mozzie appeared before her, fumbling with a pen. "I wouldn't mind it."

She opened the door, allowed him out, and followed. Locking the door behind them, she led him to her car and left him to let himself in. Turning the key, she started up the car and flipped the radio on, though the volume was low. She didn't turn it up, because she had a question for Mozzie that she couldn't ask anyone else.

"Mozzie-"

"I didn't know what to do!" He pulled his seatbelt on anxiously. "The customer just walked in and you were still in the bathroom, so I tried to talk to her, but I called her Millie, and told her Susan meant lilies – how was I supposed to know she was allergic?"

El blinked at him, wide-eyed. "Moz, it's okay. I was going to ask you a question."

He let go a heavy breath and relaxed in his seat. "Oh. Well, ask away, Mrs. Suit."

She stared out the window and contemplated her question until she couldn't wait any longer.

"Why are Neal and Peter having you do this?"

He fell silent. "I know you know, and I need to know why they're so worried about me."

Mozzie rubbed his hands together. "I'm not sure I should say..."

"Please, Mozzie," she implored. When they reached a red light she turned to look him straight-on, her arresting blue eyes weakening his resolve to say nothing at all. "It's scaring me."

He sighed. She would eventually find out anyway, and who was he to keep something so important from her? He opened his mouth to answer her, but was interrupted by her cell phone going off.

She cringed at the sound, pulling the phone out of her pocket and answering the call. "Hey, hon."

_"Hey, El,"_ Peter's voice boomed into her ear. She quickly turned down the volume on the side of the phone an returned her ear to the receiver.

_"-expect to be home?"_

"I'm sorry, can you say that again?" she asked, eyeing Mozzie as she spoke.

_"Sure. I was just asking when you expect to be home?"_

She exhaled. "Soon. I'm just dropping Mozzie off."

Peter chuckled. _"Of your own will?"_

She just laughed and left the question unanswered as Mozzie avoided her gaze, deepening her concern. "What's the plan for dinner?"

_"I was thinking Chinese, if you're feeling up to it."_

She grimaced. "Man, I wish I was. How about we go out another night? I'm not actually all that hungry."

_"Yeah, I can survive with a sandwich. And then we can continue what Neal so rudely interrupted..."_

She blushed. "We aren't expecting company, right?"

_"Usually doesn't matter if we're expecting it or not, but no. We should be home-free."_

Chuckling, El stopped at Neal's place, where he had initially hinted at dropping him off. "I'm dropping Moz off. Be there in a few."

_"Great. I love you."_

She blew a kiss into the phone and hung up. Mozzie hastily exited the vehicle, and Elizabeth sighed, lying back in her chair. She just couldn't catch a break with that guy.

* * *

Peter smiled as Elizabeth walked in, swinging her keys around on the keyring. "Hello, beautiful."

She returned his grin, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Hello, handsome. How's the kidnapping case going?"

He smoothed her hair behind her ear as she loosened his tie. "All the bugs are pretty much worked out. One more day and we'll have our kidnapper."

"Hm," she hummed, leaning in and kissing him briefly. She smoothened his suit with her palms and whispered, "Then you can stop worrying."

He kissed her nose and asked, "Who's worried?"

"You are." He could tell she was considering further questioning, but she seemed to decide against it. "So..."

"So..." he said quietly, hands sliding down her sides and resting at her waist. "How about you and I spend some time..." He began trailing kissing from her ear down to her neck. "...alone?"

El smiled, kissing his cheek. "After dinner. I'm starved." She stepped just out of his reach and giggled mischievously, walking toward the refrigerator. Peter squinted, walking up behind her and sliding her jacket off her shoulders, and proceeded to massage them. Craning his neck, his lips grazed her cheek, then traveled to her chin, until he was kissing the corner of her lips. This eventually proved too distracting for her, so she turned and caught his lips in hers, stepping away from the kitchen.

They didn't get around to eating any dinner that evening.

* * *

_**Sorry for such a late update! Life has been crazy, and every bad thing that could happen seems to have been thrown at me. Forgive me, and read this before you plan my death.**_

_**I think this is one of my favorite chapters thus far. We've got Mozzie out of his element (a rare thing), Neal and Peter (of course ;D), the usual drama of being kept out of the loop, and cute Peter/El moments. Hopefully you guys like it, too.**_

_**Who's excited for Shoot the Moon? I can NOT wait! Being the fangirl I am, I have a feeling I'll be squealing (that rhymed) all Tuesday night. What do you guys think?**_

_**Oh, and P.S.: Do you think Mozzie's gonna crack and tell El what's going on before Peter does? No one wants the Burkes to be at a bad place in their relationship, but hiding a kidnapping threat is kind of a biggie. We'll see.**_

_**Thanks for reading! Leave a review and tell me what you like, and what you don't. I don't bite.**_

_*** *-TheSongbird341-* ***_

* * *

_DISCLAIMER: I don't own White Collar. I would probably screw it up somehow, so be glad that I don't own it._


	8. Chapter VIII

**The Extortionist**

* * *

_When the infamous Extortionist hits NYC, Peter's got his hands full – between leading the investigation no man has completed, protecting his pregnant wife from a kidnapper gunning for her, and keeping Neal under control. Can he keep the inevitable from happening, or will he end up enlisting Neal and Mozzie in a quest to retrieve what has been taken from him?_

* * *

**Chapter VIII**

* * *

Elizabeth woke with her head buried in her husband's chest, his arms tight around her, breaths in sync. A smile spread across her lips and a familiar feeling fluttered in her chest. She tilted her head up to look at Peter, whose brown eyes were hidden behind closed eyelids and lips were lifted into a sleepy grin.

El sneaked a glance at the alarm clock, which read 6:37 A.M.. This meant that they had an hour left in bed before they needed to get ready for their doctor's appointment. She took advantage of that knowledge and stretched her neck up to kiss his lips lingeringly, slowly awakening him.

Peter smiled against her lips, kissing her back gently. He only pulled back to check the time, then turned back to her. "Look who's awake early."

She laughed softly. "I thought I'd just say good morning before I get up and get sick."

He raised his eyebrows. "Well," he began, leaning over and pulling her closer to his lips. "Good morning..."

That's when the phone rang.

Peter released her lips, sighing, and grabbed the phone off the hook, glancing at the caller I.D. Sitting up, he picked it up and growled drowsily, "What is it, Caffrey?"

El inwardly cringed for Neal. Peter was a patient man, and usually very forgiving, but he was not fond of being interrupted; it was one thing that really pushed his buttons. She'd seen the receiving end of that anger many times, and it wasn't pretty. She hoped Neal didn't get too much grief for a simple phone call.

But then, why had he called at six in the morning?

El sat up, sending a small wave of nausea up her spine, but she ignored it and instead studied Peter's expressions. He looked disgruntled, with his brow furrowed and lips pressed together. She watched his motionless face as the unintelligible rambling of Neal's voice filled the otherwise-silent room.

Then the anger made an appearance. He muttered a curse and asked, "When did it happen?"

Neal spoke again. "And they just noticed this?" More rambling. More cursing. "That means we've got what? Three hours?" Her eyebrows shot up. "Yeah, I'll be right there." He hung up, turning back to his wife.

"What happened?" she asked, setting a hand on his shoulder.

Peter grimaced. "Looks like we've got our first victim."

She pressed her lips together. "I'm guessing it's not Diana."

He shook his head. "Actually, it's the Mayor's wife." El inhaled, setting a hand over her mouth. "Now we've got three hours to get Diana kidnapped." He kissed her forehead and stood up, hurrying to gather his clothes. "I was really counting on the FBI being the first abduction. We've _got_ to be the second."

She frowned. "I'll wish you luck."

Peter turned to her. "Not from here, you won't." She squinted at him as he grabbed the phone and dialed a number.

"What?" she asked, watching his hand. If he was referring to the doctor's appointment, she didn't really want to go without him...

"It's too dangerous," he explained as he waited for an answer on the phone. "I'm having Mozzie pick you up."

Her eyes widened and she stood, ignoring the sickness she felt. "Peter, the shop doesn't open for another three hours," she reminded him. "What am I supposed to do for that time with _Mozzie?_"

He turned to her and crossed his arms. She matched his stance and waited for his answer.

"I don't know!" he complained. "But I'm not letting you stay here alone while there's a kidnapper out there, minutes away from taking another victim!"

"And why not?" she challenged. He almost answered, then stopped.

He sputtered. "Because!"

She shook her head. "That's not an answer, Peter. Why can't I be left alone for a second without you sending Mozzie to babysit me?"

"Because I don't want anything to happen to you!" he argued.

She rolled her eyes. "Peter, you're an FBI agent! You're always in danger, and I don't want anything to happen to you. But I'm not having you stalked!" He opened his mouth, but she cut him off. "I'm not even in any danger!"

"Yes, you are!"

She paused, lips parted, eyes wide. "What is that supposed to mean?"

He blinked, seemingly surrendering, and set his clothes on the dresser. "El... You're my wife. I'm the leader of this case. Therefore, there is a small possibility..." he looked away from her confused blue eyes. "that you could be kidnapped."

She inhaled sharply, hands dropping to her sides, as the news hit in squarely in the chest, knocking the wind out of her. She was a target for a kidnapping. She could be being watched by that "Extortionist" right now. She _was_ in danger.

And Peter never told her.

He walked toward her, setting his hands on her shoulder and looking her in the eye. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I just didn't want you to worry..."

She backed away from him. "Well, I am worried! I'm a walking target!"

He shook his head, stepping closer to her, but she only took one step backward. "No, no, El... The chances are small. I just couldn't risk it."

"And you never told me..." She frowned up at him, her eyes very disappointed and... sad. "I thought we told each other everything."

"I'm sorry," he tried. "I was just scared."

"So am I," she nodded, facial expression blank. He blinked downward, knowing how upset she was, and with good reason, too. He had messed up, _big time. _He was certain she'd repel any wishes for her protection then, but she surprised him.

With her hands, she gestured down to her stomach. "But this baby deserves two loving parents. I can't be a parent if I'm kidnapped, Peter." His mouth went dry as she spoke. Somehow, even when she was angry or hurt, she kept her composure like that. It made him feel more guilty.

Her voice quiet and serious, she sighed. "So I'll go with Mozzie." She grabbed the phone off the bed and handed it to him, expressionless. "Go ahead and call him."

Peter inhaled, not sure where that put them. Clearly, she was angry, but at least she was still cooperating. She was being reasonable if nothing else, so he'd work with that.

After considering her acceptance of the protection, he tentatively moved to embrace her, but she walked past him and to the restroom, suddenly much more nauseous.

* * *

Peter was just walking into the White Collar unit, still speechless after the cold shoulder he'd received from his wife all morning, when Jones ran up to him quickly. "Agent Burke!" He handed Peter a file and continued. "Here's what we've got."

He opened the file and skimmed it, looking for key information as Jones continued. "Mrs. Mayor wasn't at her 9:00 meeting yesterday, so it's safe to assume it took place some time before then."

"Time estimate?"

He exhaled. "Faculty claims to have seen an unfamiliar man walking into the Mayor's home shortly after her husband's departure, around 8:45 A.M."

"Where's Caffrey?" Peter asked abruptly, closing the folder.

"Right here!" a familiar voice called out.

"Jones, go get Diana!" he ordered, turning to his partner. "Neal, you better be ready for some action. Mighty thanks for the call this morning, by the way! I might be sleeping on the couch tonight!"

Neal threw his hands up innocently. "Sorry. Would you rather I hadn'tcalled?" Peter didn't respond, but handed him a folder. Flipping through the papers, he asked casually, "Have a fight with El?"

Peter sighed. "I told her."

Neal looked up quickly. "Wait... You don't mean-"

"Yes, I do."

Neal scoffed. "Well, what gave you the idea to do something stupid like that?"

Peter grimaced. "I recall asking you that question before." However, Neal didn't respond until he answered his question. "I couldn't keep lying to her."

"She must be mad."

"You're not wrong," he admitted whilst pouring a cup of coffee. "I just hope I can make it up to her."

Neal shrugged. "When this whole deal is done, take her out to dinner."

Peter took a sip of his coffee. "I've learned a few ways to my wife's heart, and food is not one of them. Not one of the good ones, anyway."

"Oh no, a pregnant woman appreciates good food," he said simply. "But that's not what it's about; it's about the romance. Buy her something expensive, apologize in front of the whole restaurant and sweep her off her feet. Women eat that stuff up. Just don't-"

_"Boss!"_

Peter jumped at the sound, spilling his coffee on his shoes and hands. Muttering a curse and wondering how his day could possibly get any worse, he turned and nodded to Diana curtly. "Diana; good thing you're here. We've got three hours to set up this kidnapping."

Her eyes boggled. "Three hours?!"

"We've only been waiting for you."

"Is a van set up?"

"We'll worry about the van."

Neal jumped in. "Man, not the van!"

Peter rolled his eyes. "Ignore him. Go get ready."

"Sure thing, Boss." Diana nodded and walked away.

Peter turned to Neal. "C'mon, let's get in the van."

Neal groaned. "Can't I just stay here?"

"No."

"But-"

"The _van_, Neal."

He sighed. "Fine."

* * *

_**First of all: WOW! The finale of White Collar was stellar! I almost cried, and I NEVER cry at movies and such (my brother nicknamed me stone-heart because he and my mom always cry at movies and I don't :/), so that was a big deal. **_

**WARNING! FANGIRL MODE ON:** _OHMYGODOHMYGOD PETER A MURDERER NO AND EL ALL READY FOR DINNER AND TEARS! I KNEW SAM WAS A TWO-FACED LIAR (and I'll always call him Sam, idc if his real name is James or whatever...)_ **FANGIRL MODE OFF.**

_**Shoot the Moon was stellar; it tied up the lying thing quite nicely, and showed the audience why El did what she did. Plus, that Oz guy was not ugly at all... ;)**_

_**Things are heating up! The cat's out of the bag now, Peter. Now, they've got three hours to get Diana "kidnapped". Who thinks that's gonna work out?**_

_**Thanks for reading :) Leave a review if you liked, or if you didn't or whatever. Even a "cool" is appreciated. Peace!**_

_*** *-TheSongbird341-* ***_

* * *

_DISCLAIMER: I don't own White Collar, which means I have to stalk SpoilerTV for set photos and stuff to tide me over all summer._


	9. Chapter IX

**The Extortionist**

* * *

_When the infamous Extortionist hits NYC, Peter's got his hands full – between leading the investigation no man has completed, protecting his pregnant wife from a kidnapper gunning for her, and keeping Neal under control. Can he keep the inevitable from happening, or will he end up enlisting Neal and Mozzie in a quest to retrieve what has been taken from him?_

* * *

**Chapter IX**

* * *

Elizabeth didn't speak to Mozzie at the door; she only let him in and made a beeline to the back room, wanting to be alone. She wasn't in the mood for conversation. Mozzie, however, was dying to keep away from inventory. If it meant chatting with a grumpy Mrs. Suit, he was up for the challenge.

"Mrs. Suit," he called out, meeting her in the back. He found her sitting down at her desk, head in her hands. At his call, she looked up at him, exasperation evident in her eyes.

"Yeah, Moz?"

He took a seat next to her and folded his hands. "You seem... unnerved. I don't mean to pry, but if you'd like to talk about it, I'm better with advice than I am with inventory and snooty customers."

El laughed, but it was short-lived. The sadness she felt was still there. Maybe she _should_ talk about it...

She sighed and straightened up, making eye contact. "Well, Peter and I had a fight... Turns out, he hasn't been telling me the whole truth about this kidnapping deal."

Moz's eyebrows raised. "You never caught on to the whole-"

"Babysitting thing?" she finished for him. "I thought Peter was just being overprotective."

He sniffed at the term. He was certainly _no _babysitter, and he took pride in that. But she was having a rough time, so he allowed her that one. "Call it what you may," he conceded, shrugging. "You know, and you're scared. That's reasonable," Mozzie decided.

She shook her head. "It's not that. Peter and I... we've always been completely honest with each other. It's been our rule from the beginning of our marriage until now, to tell the truth, no matter what. And this time, he didn't."

Mozzie looked in her eyes. "It was only to protect you. He doesn't want you getting hurt."

"But I think I _deserved _to know something like this. He should respect me enough..." Her voice trailed off as she stared down at the love-note she'd been reading the other day, trying to avoid any tears. "It's like he doesn't look at me the same way, now that I'm pregnant."

Mozzie squinted at her, shaking his head. "You're wrong about that."

El looked up, surprised at his abrupt response. He elaborated. "The Suit will _always_ look at you and see the woman he married. He might treat you differently because he's worried about you... Men tend to get more protective when they're a soon-to-be-father." She was silent, stoic. "It's all he thinks about, you know."

Elizabeth glanced down too quickly, as if his words had bothered her. "What?" he asked, suddenly growing more conscious of what he was saying. He _was _talking to a pregnant woman, after all. Offending her might end him up with inventory, _again_...

She frowned. "Well... Peter rushed off to work this morning. He was going on about some stakeout, and-" she looked down, avoiding his eyes. "Today was our first doctor's appointment since we found out. I knew he was busy, and that he'd want to be there, so I rescheduled; but he didn't even remember." El averted her eyes, shoving down nausea as she spoke. She didn't know why she was so upset. It was only a doctor's appointment. Still, the thought that he'd already forgotten the _first _baby-related event to come was unsettling. Did that say something about the rest of the pregnancy?

Mozzie sucked in a breath, seeing how bothered she was. "Yikes..." Under his breath, he muttered, "He's in the doghouse now."

"What?"

"Nothing," he said abruptly. He quickly returned to the topic. "But Peter has probably been under a lot of stress, between the case, the pregnancy, and keeping you safe; even if you didn't know it. Perhaps we should allow him this one mix-up..."

Elizabeth looked acceptant. "I guess."

Mozzie nodded. "Why don't you give him a call a little later and talk to him about it? He'll understand."

She inhaled. "I'm not sure he'll want to talk to me."

Mozzie fought back a chuckle. Peter may have had her convinced she was at fault in some way, but he knew the man was already feeling guilty. He wouldn't refuse her phone call. But to Elizabeth, he simply said, "I think it would make you feel better."

Elizabeth eyed him for a moment, seemingly on the edge of agreement or disagreement, then nodded. "You're probably right."

Empowered, he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "I always am."

El chuckled at him. "You realize you're back with the inventory, right?"

_Right. _"I'll go get the list."

* * *

Peter, Jones, and Cruz filed into the van, ignoring the sumptuous complaints Neal offered on the way. Peter took a seat across from Neal and Cruz, who were arguing about the mission, the van, whose knee was touching whose; everything. It was unsettling enough to watch Diana head toward a hostage situation and hope their plan worked without the aid of the pair's bickering.

"You two!" Peter snapped, causing them both to look at him. "Could you please keep your mouths shut for just a minute while we catch a kidnapper, here?"

Everyone stared at him silently, mild astonishment painted on their faces. "What?"

Neal squinted at him. "Someone's in a sour mood."

Jones sighed. "Neal, cut the man a break. He's not used to fighting with his wife."

Peter glared at Neal. "You told him?"

Neal blinked. "It... might have slipped."

Jones set a hand on his shoulder. "It's okay; I feel you."

Cruz looked between the two. "What happened with Elizabeth?"

Peter snickered. "What, Neal hasn't told you already?"

Lauren shook her head. "Is it about the baby?"

He frowned. "No, she's just upset about..." Peter froze. _The baby..._

"Well, I'm just the model husband today," he exhaled angrily.

"What?" Jones asked.

He sighed, rubbing his eyes. "Our first doctor's appointment was today, and I forgot."

Neal winced. "Peter, that is not good at all."

"I know..." He sighed as he stood, reaching for his phone. Could he possibly screw anything else up? "I gotta call her and apologize."

"Diana's in place!" Jones warned them, sending Peter back into his seat.

"Here we go," Cruz nodded.

Neal groaned. "Let's get this over with."

* * *

Mozzie sighed at the large shelves of... well, everything, that stood over him mockingly, towering over him and his half-finished inventory list like a cat, ready to pounce, over a fuzzy gray houseguest that had overstayed its welcome. After an hour of recounting the wine alone (he'd "mysteriously" lost his other list that had previously taken stock of the bottles, and was forced to start fresh), he was growing tired of the work and decided to take a break. He and Mrs. Suit both knew it wasn't a real job, but instead a distraction, so he figured she wouldn't mind.

Taking a seat in Elizabeth's computer chair, he propped his feet up on the desk and looked around the room for any source of food or entertainment. He wasn't allowed any wine, but he found a cooler filled with ice-cold soft drinks and water – marked "Yvonne", though he paid no heed; whoever Yvonne was, she could settle with one less beverage – decided on a soda, and wiggled the computer mouse until the monitor turned on. The computer wasn't as fast as some others he'd seen, but since most of those had been federal property, stolen property, or cost more than his soul, it really wasn't a fair comparison. It loaded a web browser pretty quickly, so he dismissed any other lag and was simply glad that the building had Internet connection.

He typed in the URL for his favorite game website and signed in under Neal's username, which he had skillfully picked up from across the apartment. However, it was denied, so he went in under his username and immediately found Solitaire. _A great time-killer_, he mused, sipping his soda and popping his fingers. "Let it begin."

A half-hour later, the cards danced around the screen, proclaiming him "WINNER!" as per usual event. He grabbed another soft drink and scanned the screen for anything else to do.

And suddenly, as if mysterious forces had heard and granted his dull requests, an answer to his boredom appeared in the lower-right corner of the screen; namely the _"You've got mail!"_ alert, accompanied with a loud pinging sound. He jumped and grabbed the speaker, silencing it nervously, then slumped back into the chair.

He was faced with a difficult decision; to snoop into Mrs. Suit's email, or to live through the next four hours dully, never knowing... It should have been a simple decision, but it wasn't. With anyone else, he would have gladly scanned their inbox without second thought, but she was the wife of a Suit...

Mozzie did open it, but it was just some contact information from a consumer. There was another about a delivery confirmation, and another about a sale on jewelry, and plenty other unimportant messages he couldn't care less about. After skimming through a few more emails, feeling like a complete and utter stalker, he decided to close the message and leave the Burkes to their business.

Sighing and closing out the website he was on, bringing the dancing cards to an abrupt halt, he looked around at the letters and papers on her desk, mind pleading his eyes to find something interesting. Bills, notes-to-self, contact information, more bills...

Something caught his eye, and this something was very familiar. It was a heart-shaped piece of paper with not-quite-poetry printed across it, and the words "Dearest Elizabeth" on the front. It was one of those love-letters El had been receiving, which unsettled him. He didn't like the man behind the letters. It seemed like something was off. It read:

_"Dearest Elizabeth,_

_I have a special delivery_

_for you. It truly is coming_

_from my heart, with_

_love. There isn't a price_

_I would hesitate to pay_

_for you._

_From your admirer."_

He considered it for a moment, then turned it sideways and flipped it, then folded and creased it as the Extortionist had many years ago. Nothing turned up, but his curiosity wasn't satisfied and he tried a few more patterns. After a moment's brain-busting, he found something at least a little interesting. It came out as, _"Delivery is coming with a price to pay."_

Mozzie squinted at the paper. What could that mean? He might have been paranoid, but on the off-chance that it was a secret threat, and these really were from the Extortionist, they could be directed at the Suit.

Delivery could mean anything, he mused. A price to pay could be reference to the ransom money. The only reason Mozzie could deduce that this man would've sent these to Elizabeth was that the kidnapper must have known that the best way to get to Peter was through his wife. The notes were just poking fun at the situation.

Mozzie was just starting up another riveting round of solitaire when it dawned on him. _Delivery_... Hadn't Mrs. Suit received an email about a delivery?

He clicked "New Tab" and entered Elizabeth's email, instantly finding the message about a confirmed delivery. Unfortunately, that delivery was set to arrive today.

His eyes widened. They weren't after the Suit; they were after his _wife_.

Mozzie jumped out of his seat and ran out into the main room, not a single Elizabeth Burke to be seen. There was a customer sitting at a table, however, so he asked, "Have you seen Mrs. Burke?"

The woman with tired blue eyes and bleach-blonde hair nodded her head. "She went outside to make a phone call."

Mozzie took these instructions and flew toward the window, looking out at the streets; but no one was to be seen. All he caught was a truck speeding away, and an empty delivery stop.

* * *

_**Glad to update again :) I promised the action would begin around Chapter 10, and that's what's gonna happen. The Extortionist is in, ladies and gentlemen. Can't wait for you to meet him.**_

_**Don't forget to leave a review, please! Reviews are quite the inspiration :D**_

_*** *-TheSongbird341-* ***_

* * *

_DISCLAIMER: I don't own these characters, White Collar, or anything you recognize. So there._


	10. Chapter X

**The Extortionist**

* * *

_When the infamous Extortionist hits NYC, Peter's got his hands full – between leading the investigation no man has completed, protecting his pregnant wife from a kidnapper gunning for her, and keeping Neal under control. Can he keep the inevitable from happening, or will he end up enlisting Neal and Mozzie in a quest to retrieve what has been taken from him?_

* * *

**Chapter X**

* * *

"Where is she headed?"

Jones looked at Peter. "She's going to the intersection of Oak and Willow. She always passes this place on her way to work, so it's an ideal location."

Peter blinked. "And how do we know our kidnapper is on the same page?"

Cruz handed Peter a paper and asked, "Have you read this yet?" The look on his face told her he hadn't. "It was our second clue."

"What happened to the first?" he questioned, scanning the page.

"We didn't get to it in time," she explained. "Hence, the Mayor's wife's abduction."

"It was hinting about the location she'd be taken from," Jones supplemented.

"This one appears to be the same thing," said Neal.

Peter squinted "'Betwixt the two trees, a shattered glass gleans; the streets abuzz with her yellow enemies.'" Peter read aloud. "So, I get the 'two trees' part, but the glass and the enemies?"

Neal pointed at a monitor. "See the two stores next to her? The one on the left is known for the crowd that sits out front; truckers, big drinkers, you name it. They drink there and are prone to throw empty bottles for distance." He crossed his arms, watching Diana patrol down the street. "Therefore, shattered glass."

"And we decided that 'abuzz with little yellow enemies' meant bees, and the building on the right of the intersection-"

"Cindy's Honey Bun Bakery." Peter cut Jones off. It was all making sense now. "So he's gonna pick her up at this intersection..."

"In two minutes," Neal finished, then added under his breath, "Then I can breathe my own air"

"Neal, would you stop-" Peter began, but was interrupted by a phone going off. Everyone looked at each other, waiting for someone to answer it... until Neal shuffled through his pocket and pulled out a phone.

He glanced at the screen. "It's Mozzie. Can I take this?"

Peter shook his head. "We don't need any frequencies going in or out of this van. It'll only mess with the reception on Diana's tracker."

Neal gave him an "are-you-kidding-me?" look, then sighed and put the phone away. "Fine. Let's just finish this."

They all watched the clock tick, two minutes passing, and watched Diana. The four agents held their breath, frozen to the spot, waiting in silence for their kidnapper to make an appearance. Peter rubbed his hands together anxiously; Neal bit his lip. They exchanged looks every once in a while, both as impatient as the other. Jones and Cruz engaged in similar actions, though on a much more professional stance. He leaned against the wall and rubbed his forehead; she rested her head in her hands, elbows digging into her knees, joining them all in the wordless stare at the screen.

No van appeared. No kidnapper appeared. No action at all, unless you counted Diana's nervous shifting and checking of her watch. She eventually started walking again, so as not to seem suspecting, obviously confused at the lack of... abduction.

The silence was again interrupted by a cell phone ringing loudly, causing all to jump in their chairs. Peter's gaze flicked to Neal, and he growled, "Caffrey, if you don't turn off that phone in the next ten seconds-"

"You're gonna need to hand it to me first," Neal countered, nodding to Peter's pocket. He froze, following Neal's snake-eyes to his pocket, and tentatively removed his ringing phone. Everyone glared at him.

He chuckled nervously, shutting the phone off without even looking at the Caller I.D. "Sorry about that... It's off now."

* * *

Elizabeth walked down the steps from her shop, dialing her husband's number quickly and looked around before she crossed the street. The delivery truck would be dropping off her order in a few minutes, so she took the opportunity to call Peter and apologize. It had been bugging her all day; she just had to explain to him. She didn't like being mad at him, or him being mad at her. They almost _never_ fought, so when they did, it wasn't easy to keep up. One or the other would eventually apologize, so she decided to take her turn and step forward. Mozzie said he'd understand.

The ringing came to a halt, causing her to raise her eyebrows. He shut off his phone; Peter never turned off his phone. Especially not when she called. Was he really that mad at her?

She was sent to voicemail, so she settled for leaving a message. He always checked his messages. "Hey, hon," she began slowly, waiting for the delivery truck. Her head jerked back as she walked, hair caught, once again, on the broken windchimes that hung from the trees at the delivery stop. Wincing, she reached up and carefully untangled her hair as she spoke. "I guess you're busy, but when you can, would you give me a call? I..." she paused, guilt evident in her voice. The truck appeared down the road, making its way toward her.

"I just wanted to apologize for getting so mad earlier. I guess you really only did what you did for me; I appreciate having a husband that cares so much."

The truck stopped, and a man stepped out of the passenger's side, walking around to meet her. "I'm just a little scared about this. But when it comes down to it, I know I can trust you to catch this guy, so..." she stopped, deciding this was best discussed in person. The man handed her a clipboard with a paper to sign for the shipment, so she pinned the phone between her ear and her shoulder and signed quickly. "Anyway, I hope your stakeout goes well, and-"

El stopped abruptly and let out a cry as a sharp pain clanged in the back of her head, causing her to drop the clipboard and the phone to the ground. She felt as if she'd been hit with a rock, or something alike. She looked at the delivery man to see if he'd noticed what happened to her, but before her eyes rested on him, her vision blurred, and faded into black nothingness. She tried to scream as her knees buckled beneath her, but only a gasping breath made it out of her system. Her legs caved and she fell, all sense of consciousness and awareness disappearing into the pain and confusion swirling in her head.

* * *

Peter sighed, staring at the screen. 5 minutes passed, and... nothing. He glanced at Jones and asked, "Are we sure about he time?"

Jones nodded, confirming his qualm. "The security cameras confirmed an unidentified man walking in at 8:42. Neither he nor Mrs. Mayor ever exited through the front or back door."

Peter huffed. "How did no one notice all day?"

Cruz shrugged. "She wasn't the mayoral type; she didn't even want her husband to take the job. Her close friends and family has mentioned on multiple occasions that she occasionally got sick of living in such a busy area and being so flooded with people and appointments that she would just take off to her aunt's place. When the Mayor called her aunt and she wasn't there, they checked the security tapes and the bedroom; and so forth."

Neal's stare bounced around the van, resting twice on Peter and then on the screen, watching the puzzled Diana walk up the street again. "This doesn't feel right."

Lauren nodded. "We must be missing something."

Peter leaned forward. "What did the first clue say — about Mrs. Mayor?"

Jones pulled a napkin out of his jacket and unfolded it, handing it to Neal. "I wrote it down to look for hidden messages, but couldn't find anything."

"'A square faded with time and space, lights shine down from a high place; people's lives surround it and it haunts her.' It makes perfect sense: they live in an extremely-old square, with lanterns hanging from the power lines all around their house. And the last sentence... you get the idea."

Peter squinted. "Sounds an awful lot like Times Square."

Jones took a seat and leaned on his knees. "That's exactly what he wanted us to think, had we actually found the clue in time."

"But why isn't that the case this time, then?"

Everyone turned to Neal. "I mean, why not pull the wool over our eyes again?" He raised his hand, eyes widely innocent. "I would've done it."

Peter grimaced, shaking his head. "He's right; he would have."

Jones blinked. "So you're saying you think there's an alternate location?"

"And this one's just a scam..." Lauren muttered, taking the note from Peter. "Where else could this description fit?"

Neal leaned on his fist. "Two trees... There could be two real trees. Like a park or something," he supplied.

"Shattered glass could be anything," Jones decided. "Maybe that blowing-glass shop downtown?"

"I still don't understand the bee thing," mused Cruz. "Little enemies? Is Diana allergic to bees or something?"

Peter froze at the comment. _Allergic to bees. Little yellow enemies..._

His mouth went dry and he looked at Neal. A surge of fear tore through his chest as he formed the next words, those which rang through both he and Neal's minds simultaneously.

"Diana isn't." He inhaled sharply. "But Elizabeth is."

"Elizabeth?" Lauren looked between the two urgently. "Wait, so you think-"

"Turn the van around!" Peter ordered Jones. "We need to head to Elizabeth's shop, now!"

Jones stood immediately, following orders. Cruz looked at the two and asked, "You think Elizabeth was kidnapped?"

"She's deathly allergic to bees," Peter answered quickly, instantly dialing Diana. "One sting and she's in the emergency room. She was complaining about bees hanging around the shop and stinging her customers."

"But what about the-"

Neal snatched the phone out of Peter's hand to inform Diana about the change of plans. He took the gesture as invitation to continue. "It all makes sense! There's two trees right across from her shop, near the mailboxes."

"And the glass?" Cruz questioned.

He considered this and snapped his fingers as the van started up. "She mentioned some annoying broken wind chimes across the street. She always got her hair caught in them while walking to the delivery truck's stop."

Cruz sat up. "The trees and the wind chimes, _both_ where she picks up her deliveries?" Peter gulped and nodded grimly. "Was she expecting a delivery today?"

He snatched his phone out of Neal's hand and hung up on Diana. "I don't know... maybe?"

Neal shook his head. "Then we'd better get to her before that truck does."

Peter shot out of his seat, realizing that his wife was now in potential danger. His hands shook as he dialed Elizabeth's shop number without reply, then her cell phone. "No answer," he muttered under his breath, jabbing the phone toward Neal. "Call the little guy!"

Neal raised an eyebrow. "The little guy? Is that what you call Mozzie?"

Peter gave him a devastating look, so he shut up and dialed Mozzie's cell.

He stared at Neal and waited for Mozzie's stuffy voice to ring out in the now-in-speeding-motion van. He sank into his seat when Neal began speaking to Mozzie, hoping to God that he was wrong.

* * *

**_There you have it, folks. Elizabeth Burke has been kidnapped._**

**_I know this has already happened in the series, so let me say first: this is not the same kidnapping. The Extortionist is NOT Matthew Keller, and there is NO treasure. Since there is no time-frame for this story, there is no memory of the Keller kidnappings; so, basically, she's a kidnapping novice. I liked the way WC pulled off the kidnapping, but I decided to put a slightly-darker spin on things, with a different villain... that doesn't play chess. A few people were confused, so I just wanted to explain._**

**_Thank you for all the reviews this story has gotten, guys :) I appreciate every one a lot! Nothing makes a writer happier than feedback. And money. But I don't think that's an option right now. So feedback. Yeah._**

**_Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think :)_**

**_* *-TheSongbird341-* *_**

* * *

_DISCLAIMER__: Nah, I don't own White Collar. If I did, I'd bring it back in the **summer**, not the fall. Amen?_


	11. Chapter XI

**The Extortionist**

* * *

_When the infamous Extortionist hits NYC, Peter's got his hands full – between leading the investigation no man has completed, protecting his pregnant wife from a kidnapper gunning for her, and keeping Neal under control. Can he keep the inevitable from happening, or will he end up enlisting Neal and Mozzie in a quest to retrieve what has been taken from him?_

* * *

**Chapter XI**

* * *

The instant the ringing ceased, Mozzie unleashed the news. "Neal, Elizabeth is gone!"

_"I know,"_ he muttered. _"We're on our way. Delivery truck?"_

"I couldn't see the driver," Moz growled, furious with himself for failing at the one job he'd been given. "They were too quick."

Neal muttered a curse. _"How long ago was it?"_

"Five minutes," he answered, beginning to pace back and forth along the sidewalk. "Does the Suit-"

_"He wants to talk to-"_

_"Mozzie, where is Elizabeth?" _Peter spat over the phone, obviously distraught.

"Peter, I won't waste precious time on words-"

_"Then for the love of God, Moz, just say it!"_

"Elizabeth was taken," he sighed. "Two guys in a delivery truck; I was too late."

Peter shouted something and a slamming sound burned in Mozzie's ears. _"You — You were supposed to protect her! How could-"_

"Words are beyond the apology deserving of this, Suit."

_"The __**apology**__ deserving..."_ he mumbled angrily, on the verge of spouting off countless verbal abuses but reigning them in instead. _"Do you have any idea who could have taken her?"_

Mozzie scoffed. "Don't you think I would've mentioned that?"

_"Forget this!"_ he snapped before hanging up.

Mozzie sighed and stared at the phone. Knowing the Extortionist like an old friend, he was almost-paralyzed at the thought of what might happen to Mrs. Suit in the event of the FBI holding back ransom. He knew Peter must have felt the same way, only many times worse. He just hoped that they found Elizabeth without harm coming to anyone but the man that took her.

* * *

The van squealed to a stop outside of Elizabeth's shop. Peter jumped out before it had even stopped moving, rushing up the stairs and into the building, ignoring all apprehensive comments or sense of professionalism. He needed to see his wife's face behind the counter; he needed her to smile and walk over to him, to kiss him and wrap him in a hug, to shoo him out of her workspace like she always did because she knew with him came Neal and with Neal came trouble, which drove away customers. He needed her to take his hands and tell him to leave, because she was too busy to escape the work she would easily banish in a second for an evening with him if she could, so he could, in turn, ignore her arguments and take her out for lunch, and see her relax with the break she had wanted without saying it; so he could feel the satisfaction of making her happy, because her just standing next to him made him happy every day. He needed to prove himself wrong, to have her ask him why he was so worried, to have her chide him about being so overprotective and send him home to relax. He needed something; something from her, even a shout or a snap or a cold shoulder, because something wasn't nothing, and nothing was the worst thing to receive from someone you cared about.

However, nothing was all he found as he walked into the store, not counting a few flustered customers and Mozzie, who hurried over to him regretfully. Peter looked down at the short man who'd sworn to protect his now-abducted wife and considered throwing a few punches his way, but decided against it. It wasn't his fault, and Elizabeth wouldn't have wanted it.

_Elizabeth..._

Peter's mind was filled with thoughts of his wife: her beautiful smile, her shockingly blue eyes that deeply contrasted her dark brown hair, the way she moved about a room and drew all eyes to her. How she always trusted him, no matter the situation or the jealousy she should have felt, and offered help without being pushy. How she stepped in and out of an issue, always leaving it better than she'd found it. Her grace and poise, and the way she always listened more than she talked, and thanked more than complained. How she sat at home alone, eating a meal made for two and feeding Satchmo the rest (he knew she did, no matter how many times she denied it), allowing him to work late when, really, they'd both wanted to spend the evening together. Her excitement when she told him about the pregnancy, and her broken expression that morning when he'd been stupid enough to forget the doctor's appointment. The way she said "I love you" even if they argued, and how she never ceased to amaze him with her unconditional love and compassion. Her lips on his, and her voice in his ear, a quiet whisper treating him to secrets for only them to know. Her small weight on his chest in the morning and her slow breathing matching his heartbeat in perfect unison. Her tears on his shirt when life just wouldn't work, but her determination to never give up; a spirit with contagious passion as powerful as fifty horses. Would that spirit remain in her where she was now?

And then, where _was_ she? That was the burning question that tore at Peter's heart. He asked himself this question over and over again, watching his team examine the crime scene and call in back-up, too stunned to do anything but stand next to the doorway and stare right past Mozzie's head, at the empty counter.

Where was she? Who had her? Would they hurt her? How long did they have to find her? How much would the ransom be? Whatever it was, he would pay it. He didn't care what the bureau said.

How had he let this happen? A certain foreboding had been nagging at him since the case arose! He should have kept her with him until they caught the guy. He shouldn't have trusted Neal and Mozzie to protect her; they obviously couldn't manage it. He should have apologized before she was...

But those were useless thoughts. None would be useful in finding his wife, and he would find his wife at all costs. Whatever he had to do, he would do it. He couldn't, wouldn't, live without her. He couldn't let anything happen to her or the baby. He couldn't let them down again.

* * *

From the instant Elizabeth's heavy eyelids had opened and throbbing head had begun to function, she knew something was wrong.

At first, all she saw was black darkness, but her vision soon blurred into pictures; one after the other, flipping through the other as her eyes flicked around the dimly-lit room. She made out four walls, closed in around her, shaking and bumping, all metal. Nothing and no one accompanied her in the suffocatingly small room. She was completely alone, and nowhere near where she was supposed to be. Unfortunately, she didn't remember exactly where that was.

Recalling what her husband had told her to do in times of confusion and unfamiliar surroundings, Elizabeth first took note of her physical condition: hands bound with chaffing handcuffs, mouth gagged, head pounding with a dull ache, one earring missing, hair disheveled and left high-heel broken. She attributed her disassembly to the foggy memories she was beginning to recollect; kicking, fighting, pulling, falling, cuffing, darkness again. No faces, but it was something.

Her ankles weren't bound, so, leaning against the wall, she slowly rose to her feet. The room shook beneath her feet, nearly sending her to the floor, but she pushed herself to the wall and concentrated on standing still. She needed to survey where she was and how she could get out. There was a nagging notion in the back of her head that wherever she was, it wasn't safe, and she needed to escape.

All of Peter's "emergency-escape-techniques" came to mind in a rush, so she closed her eyes and listed them inwardly; survey, remove bonds, find a door or window, examine tools at hand, and escape. As she surveyed, though, she found there wasn't much to see. It was apparent that she was in the back of a vehicle. A vehicle in motion.

_A truck._

Her eyes widened as she recalled the last thing that happened to her. She had been picking up a delivery, while leaving Peter a message on the phone, when something — or someone — hit her on the head. That explained her aching head.

Thinking of Peter reminded her of their argument; he'd told her she was in danger of being kidnapped and she'd shrugged him off. Now, here she was, sitting in the back of a dark delivery truck, on her way to what was likely the kidnapper her husband had been chasing for a week. She should've listened!

But that wouldn't help her now. There was, however, still a chance to get out. She wasn't breaking out of her handcuffs without something to pick the lock, so that wouldn't work, but Neal had once told her about some law of entrance and exit – wherever she found herself, she got in there somehow, so she could get out somehow. Therefore, there had to be at least one way out of the truck.

She turned to her right and looked at the back of the truck. Surely enough, there was a door – opening it was a different matter. She was almost certain that such doors opened only from the outside. Even so, how would she open it with bound wrists?

El frantically searched the barren room, finding nothing to help her out of her handcuffs or to open the door. The truck took a sharp turn, sending her falling into the side wall. This shot a stinging sensation up into her shoulder, but it was worth it. It gave her an idea.

The only way she could get the door open was by force. She'd seen it done on a TV show once (not that television was always 100% reliable). No telling if it would work, of course, but it was really her only option.

Pushing herself off the wall, she took a deep breath and steadied herself, preparing to ram the door. She didn't know what she would do when she got it open, but she knew it was the only way out, and that she had to get out immediately. One step at a time.

Gussying up all the strength she could manage, Elizabeth pulled her arms tight to her back and ran at the wall, slamming her side into it with all the force she had in her. The door buckled slightly under the pressure, but didn't open. Inhaling quickly, she ran and repeated the action, throwing herself at the door. She backed up and surveyed the door, taking small pleasure in the visible dent in the door. She didn't know if it was working, but she didn't stop. How could she afford to?

Minutes later, El stopped dead in her tracks. The sound of the truck speeding through the busy traffic they'd been in faded into silence and slow motion. Her heart sank and sped simultaneously as the truck slowed to a stop, leaving her defeated. With the last of her spent energy, she sat back against the wall and looked up at the abused door, preparing to face her offender.

She was faced with two men; almost identical, were it not that one had darker skin than the other. Both were bald with brown bullet-eyes narrowed and large shark-like jaws set, arms crossed and lips pressed into a tight line. Clad in black shirts and jeans, the men looked down at the distraught woman – stilted, bound, and gagged – and stepped toward her.

"Hello, Mrs. Burke."

* * *

**_Happy late Easter, everyone :)_**

**_This chapter is a little shorter, but the next one is longer, and important to the story. As you can tell, El has been kidnapped. Peter's pissed. And as far as can be seen, El isn't going _**_anywhere._

**_Thanks for every review! Make sure to let me know what you think, so I can take it and work with it for the next update. You guys rock :)_**

**_* *-TheSongbird341-* *_**

* * *

_DISCLAIMER__: I don't own White Collar or its characters. If I did, Neal would be shirtless more often and poor Peter wouldn't get so screwed over all the time._


	12. Chapter XII

**The Extortionist**

* * *

_When the infamous Extortionist hits NYC, Peter's got his hands full – between leading the investigation no man has completed, protecting his pregnant wife from a kidnapper gunning for her, and keeping Neal under control. Can he keep the inevitable from happening, or will he end up enlisting Neal and Mozzie in a quest to retrieve what has been taken from him?_

* * *

**Chapter XII**

* * *

Neal watched from a distance as Peter paced back and forth, head falling into shaking hands, scolding himself profusely and ignoring comforting words from Diana, who recently arrived on the scene. He sighed at the anxious man, feeling as guilty as he. How could this have happened? They had been so careful. He couldn't think of a single precaution they hadn't taken, save for actually staying home with her. That's what Mozzie had been for, and they'd all had such faith in him. How could she have gotten away?

Speaking of which, Mozzie walked up to him nervously, looking at Peter. He sighed guiltily, scratching his neck.

"I can't believe I let Mrs. Suit get kidnapped."

Neal shook his head, turning to Moz. "Don't be sorry, Moz. It wasn't your fault."

"Yes, it was!" he stressed. "I had one job — _one_ job and I couldn't do it!" He turned away from Neal and Peter, frowning.

"It's alright," Neal assured him and set a hand on Mozzie's shoulder and watched Peter talk to Diana and Jones. "Peter'll find her. He won't stop until he does."

As if on cue, Peter approached the two, pointedly avoiding Mozzie's eyes. "Neal, we're taking the witnesses back to the bureau. Let's go." He nodded to the door, obviously wanting to get away from the scene.

He couldn't blame him; it was hard for them all to look at it. Everyone loved Elizabeth... even the FBI agents. She would bring them brownies when they were on stakeouts, and often helped them on cases with her inborn common sense and natural advice. She couldn't have a single enemy, because she was simply too likable. No one was in good spirits now.

Following him out the door, Neal made his way to Elizabeth's car, expecting to find Peter in the driver's seat. Strangely, he only stood outside and stared in the window. He did have the keys, didn't he?

"Peter?" Neal called out curiously, waving at him. Peter looked up at him forlornly and shook his head.

"Do — Do you think they'll mind if we take the van?"

Neal blinked, staring at Peter for such an odd question. "Probably. That never stopped us before."

Peter walked around the car, toward the van. "You mean, never stopped _you_ before."

Despite the comment, he stepped in the van and turned the key in the ignition. Neal followed and watched him cautiously, puzzled as to why he hadn't wanted to drive Elizabeth's car. _Could be the memories,_ he mused. He never used the Bordeaux bottle anymore, thanks to Kate's angelic face and its tendency to pop into his head every time he looked at the thing.

He stepped into the van, taking the passenger seat. He pulled on his seat-belt and leaned back, waiting to start out on the road.

However, they did no such thing. Instead of turning on the engine, Peter stared at the dashboard, motionless, eyes glassy. He hardly moved, if only to breathe, to a point of Neal wondering if he suddenly turned stone. Neal stared at him, waiting for a sound, a gesture to explain the silence. None came, so he ventured to ask a question.

"Peter, are you alright?"

He didn't even look at him; he only blinked. After a few moments of silence, he spoke, voice hardly audible. "He took my wife."

Neal's eyes widened. He sat up and reached out to touch his shoulder. "Peter, we will find Elizabeth and catch him before-"

"And what if we don't?" Peter cut him off quickly, hands falling from the steering wheel he'd been gripping so tightly. "Do you honestly think Hughes will let me pay the ransom?"

Neal opened his mouth to speak, but stopped short. He was right; there was no way they could pay ransom. They were working for the bureau, after all; catching the guy would be priority. Whether they liked it or not, Elizabeth was not Hughes' main issue. She was, however, theirs.

"If Hughes doesn't let us do what we have to do," Neal began slowly. "then who says we have to play by his rules?"

Peter finally looked at him, though tentatively. He eyed the hand on his shoulder and considered Neal's words. "I want to do this the right way — I do, really. But it's El..."

That was enough for Neal. "I understand completely."

Peter looked at him seriously, closed his eyes, face reddening, and inhaled sharply. Neal watched him closely as his eyes opened again, tears underlying them. He blinked back the tears and looked away, ignoring Neal's apologetic look. Neal knew how much El meant to him, just as Kate had meant something to him; the difference was that he actually meant something back to El. That might have made it that much harder.

* * *

El winced as the two men shoved her down a long hallway, feeling as if she were some wild animal being pushed along with a stick. She sucked in a breath and held in any noise, ignoring the throbbing in her shoulders, and concentrated on remaining completely silent so as to hear any sounds other than their footsteps and the thoughts racing through her head. She was currently blindfolded; they hadn't wanted her to see where she was or how she got in, so they had tied a black cloth tightly around her head, blocking out any spare glimpses of herself or anyone else. All she could do was listen carefully for any simple noises — echoes, extra footfalls, machines, outside sounds like trains or planes — that could exploit her situation or location in any way. All she had picked up on was the man on her right tripping (she had to stifle a smirk at that one) and a small tinkling metal sound, which she supposed was an exchange of keys between the two men. It was all useless, but she had to try.

Suddenly, the voice of the man on her left came booming toward her. "Pick your feet up." They abruptly stopped, waiting for her to follow their order.

She squinted her eyes, though no one could have known but herself. "Why?"

The other man snorted. "Just do what you're told."

El hated such responses as these, but decided Peter would prefer her and the baby intact when — not if, as that mindset was simply not accepted — he found her, so she inhaled and accepted the order, raising her foot and stepping forward. _Stairs, _she told herself. No telling where they headed, but it wasn't like turning back was an option.

So, slowly, taking care not to miss a step, she scaled the stairs until her foot hit flat ground in front of her again.

They walked straight, not turning corners as they had before, for what she estimated to be five more minutes before the men grabbed her sore shoulders and jerked her to a halt. She gritted her teeth at the soreness making its way to her neck and spoke, her voice raspy but firm.

"Why are we stopping?"

One of the two let go of her shoulder and walked past her, a smirk evident in his voice. "Unless you'd like to take more stairs, we though we'd take the elevator. It's a long climb," he added, unwittingly informing her of the building's height.

She heard the click of a button being pressed, then a soft humming, followed by the sound of the doors opening, unaccompanied by the usual 'ding' elevators supplied. Quickly thereafter, she was pushed into the elevator, stumbling into the back wall of the shaft. It was hard metal, suggesting a duller setting, and her feet echoed on the tiled floor. El turned and pressed her back and cuffed hands against the wall, waiting for the men that soon joined her in the stuffy area to send the elevator upward.

She blew her hair out of her face, something she hadn't been able to do until they'd removed her gag, and rested her head against the wall, exhaling heavily. With no questions to be ignored or smart comments coming to mind, she simply kept to herself and spoke to herself within her head. She couldn't tell if there was really any point to this, or if she was simply trying to remind herself she was alive and really in her current situation. Perhaps she was merely keeping herself company inside her own head. Whatever the reason, she spoke inwardly to herself frantically, thoughts scrambled between escape plans, lamentations, and prayers for Peter, Neal, and her baby.

El decided she needed to relax – Peter was surely coming for her and probably hot on her trail – so she settled on going through everything that had happened in the past hours and what might happen in those to come.

Firstly, she had been working at the shop with Mozzie: he had been taking inventory again, and she left her customers for a moment to pick up a delivery. She had felt bad for leaving things the way she did with Peter and called him, getting his machine. She couldn't remember all of her message, or if she had hung up before she'd hit her head, but she could only hope she hadn't; then Peter would know to come looking for her the second he checked his voicemail. After that, her mind went blank.

The elevator began rising, shakily at first, but soon steadying into an easy lift.

Secondly, she'd woken up in the back of what she assumed to be the delivery truck, cuffed, gagged, but unharmed... unless you counted a few bruises, some wardrobe malfunctions and a missing earring. She'd tried to escape, but was too late and was blindfolded before taken into wherever she was now.

And now, after countless attempts of keeping up with the minutes they walked, she had not an inkling of the time, place, or custody she was in, and was headed up to where she assumed she'd be held until she was saved.

As the elevator staggered to a halt, thoughts of Peter flooded her mind, as did tears her eyes. El missed him already; she felt guilty for ignoring his warnings that were given out of love and worry for her, and for thinking he was overprotective. She had scolded herself over and over again for not listening to him and putting both herself and her husband in danger, but that wouldn't help anything. It was now up to her to either free herself or do damage control until Peter did. She knew he would; he always saved her when she was in something bigger than herself.

The doors swished open, and the men prodded her forward. She ignored them and pushed away from their hands, out of the elevator, pressing onward. Carefully, she spoke again. "Where are you taking me?"

A voice in front of her, not quite as deep as the other two's, answered her question quite simply. "This is where you'll be staying for a while." He reached out and gave her blindfold a few tugs, loosening it until it fell under her chin. The face was that of an older man, wrinkled and pale, sitting under a head of thin white hair and a cap that matched his overalls. He appeared to be a janitor, and not all that unfriendly, either. He gestured toward the room she was now pushed into. "You'll get used to it after some time."

Time. She froze in her place and stared at the room before her, blinking away the blurriness in her eyes as result from the blindfold. The wooden floor creaked beneath her feet, and the washed-out white walls were stained and worn, giving off a hospital-room vibe. The only furnishings consisted of three limp sleeping bags on the floor, a floor lamp, a table, three chairs, and a single window. Another woman sat in the corner of the mostly empty room, curled into a fetal position, rocking back and forth on the black sleeping bag. Elizabeth felt sick to her stomach at the sight, almost throwing up right on the floor before her. Time in this place wouldn't be easy. The woman that hardly looked like the Mayor's wife was probably close to insanity after one day.

El jumped as the door slammed behind her, leaving only her, Mrs. Mayor, and the two men in the bland room. After a moment of silence, she tentatively walked to the sleeping bags and took a seat on the one next to her fellow captive. Maybe she could help ease the woman by striking up a conversation or offering assurance that they would be found. The first thing that came to mind was, "Hi."

Silence.

When the woman didn't respond, El sighed and fell against the wall behind her, pressing her burning eyes closed. Her wrists felt awfully raw after hours of wearing the stupid handcuffs, but she paid them no mind and simply slumped against the wall. Would it really be a long time until Peter found her? Would he refuse to pay the ransom? Would he even find her at all?

El ignored the last thought and simply sat there, eyes closed and holding back hot tears she wouldn't let fall. He would find her. It would only be a matter of time.

* * *

Peter marched right through the White Collar unit, Neal trailing not too far behind, and into the conference room. All heads turned to the man that stood over them, leaning on the hands he rested on the table, eyes filled with steel and jaw set. Neal walked in behind him and stood to his right, scanning the room with a riveting blue stare. Everyone looked at the two, a shattering silence hanging over the room. Diana studied her hands; Lauren twisted a honey-brown tress around her finger; Jones tugged on his earlobe, and Hughes, the only other man on his feet, nodded to the two men.

"Agent Burke," Reese greeted. "Caffrey. Why don't you take a-"

"Where is my wife?" Peter demanded, slamming a fist on the table. Everyone jumped at the sound.

Reese sighed, raising a hand. "Peter, I understand you're upset..."

He silenced as Peter's stare pierced through his skull, and his voice, a low rumble, asked, "Do you have any idea where she is?"

Jones sat up. "Our witnesses were taken into immediate questioning; claimed all they saw was the delivery truck stop, an unidentifiable man step out of the van carrying something big. They saw the back of the truck opening and closing, and then they were gone."

Peter's glare went cold. He stood up straight and crossed his arms. "I wanna talk to them."

Neal stepped up and backed him up. "I wouldn't mind a chat with the witnesses."

Reese made a face, then stepped around the table. "Peter, can I speak with you for a moment?"

Quickly, he whisked Peter out of the room and down the hallway, where they were alone. Peter stood like a tower, motionless and fierce. Hughes was slightly taken aback, but spoke anyway.

"Peter, I don't know how to put this eloquently, so I'm just going to say it," he began, loosening his tie. After swallowing and taking a deep breath, he continued. "I'm taking you off the case."

Peter froze, staring bluntly at the man. His eyes widened and his lips parted slightly, partly blocking gritted teeth. His hands settled on his hips as he composed himself enough to argue.

"You can't seriously be-"

"Peter, you're too emotionally invested in this case." Hughes exhaled and rubbed a hand over his eyes. "You'll be tempted to pay the ransom, or to do something even more reckless, if I keep you on it." Peter wasn't appeased. Reese tried again. "It would be best if you stayed home, relaxed, and waited for a phone call."

"You can't keep me from searching for my wife," Peter disagreed, death in his eyes, fury bubbling up into his voice because inwardly, he knew that Reese could and would take him off the case.

Hughes looked around while he spoke. "I know you'll understand when I say, in the state you're in, you would be more of a liability than an asset on this investigation."

Peter jabbed a finger at Hughes. "I don't care if I'm a liability or an asset; this is my wife we're talking about! It's-" He glanced around, then lowered his voice. "It's life or death, and I'm not about to compromise my wife's _life_ because I'm not exactly on my A-Game!"

"You are not working on this case," Hughes demanded.

"You're making a huge-"

"Go _home_, Agent Burke!"

Peter bit back his next words as Hughes shot a finger toward the exit, a stoic expression on his face. He started to protest, but was cut off.

"That was an order."

* * *

_**We're seeing more of El's setup in this chapter. And you know Peter isn't gonna sit home and wait for a phone call. Nice try, Hughes.**_

_**What did you think? Was everyone in character? Things are hitting El a bit now; you know, after a couple hours of unconsciousness in the back of a truck. Things are hitting Peter, too, but he's acting like he's gonna hit 'em right back, so I'm not too concerned about him. And Reese just doesn't know what to do about him. But whatever your opinion is: **PLEASE don't forget to leave a review!** More reviews means faster updates, and we're getting to the fun stuff now, so I wanna update soon :)**_

_**Oh, and if you like good music, go to Youtube and search: **Lennon and Maisy - Ho Hey (The Lumineers). (P.S. Skip the first twenty seconds of dialogue if that's the video you happen upon.) **You will not regret it. Those girls can SANG! And if you do, let me know what you thought of it in your review :)**_

_**Thanks to everyone reading and reviewing - you guys are every shade of awesome! We're getting pretty close to 50 reviews, and the story isn't halfway over! You guys rock my socks. And these are Hanes.**_

_*** *-TheSongbird341-* ***_

* * *

_DISCLAIMER: I don't own White Collar, or Lennon & Maisy. I don't think anyone owns those two._


	13. Chapter XIII

**The Extortionist**

* * *

_When the infamous Extortionist hits NYC, Peter's got his hands full – between leading the investigation no man has completed, protecting his pregnant wife from a kidnapper gunning for her, and keeping Neal under control. Can he keep the inevitable from happening, or will he end up enlisting Neal and Mozzie in a quest to retrieve what has been taken from him?_

* * *

**Chapter XIII**

* * *

Neal cringed as Peter slammed the car door behind him, steaming with anger, muttering curses even Neal was too young for. He stabbed the key into the hole, jerked it to the right, and slammed his foot on the gas pedal. The car jolted to a start, pulling out of the parking spot and twisting around the large parking lot, vocally disapproving of his treatment of the vehicle. Neal was beginning to feel nauseous, wondering if he should address the automobile abuse or if he should keep his mouth shut before he became the next object addressed by Peter's fury. However, the second option almost never worked (he'd attempted it... once or twice) and he was sure that when — because 'if' was such a deadly word — Elizabeth was found and came home, she'd rather not be met by a totaled car and a bill for whatever Peter was about to break if someone didn't talk him down, so he decided to speak up.

"Peter-"

"What?" he snapped, jerking the wheel to the left. A car horn sounded behind them, angering Peter. He rolled down his window and shouted backward, "Just shut up and drive your car!"

Neal tried again, touching Peter's arm. "Calm down, Peter."

His head whipped around, sending Neal reeling. "I'm calm! I am totally, completely calm and relaxed!"

Neal exhaled. "Peter, pull over."

The old woman behind them beeped her horn again. This sent Peter over the edge. Muttering furiously, he jammed his finger onto the window button, shouting back profanities at the older female, to a point that he'd almost missed their turn. Neal knew he needed to stop him before they wrecked.

"Peter, pull over!" Neal cut him off, reaching over and closing his window. Peter shot him a look, but he dismissed it and continued. "There is no need to take out your emotions on the elderly."

Peter huffed. "I don't have 'emotions', Neal."

"Yes, you do."

"No, I don't."

"Yeah, you do."

_"Neal!"_

The car jerked to a stop as they parked in a small outlet next to a cell phone store. Peter sighed and propped his elbow on the door, leaning his forehead on his hand.

After silence set in, he spoke. "Well, we pulled over."

Neal nodded. "I can see that."

Peter rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yeah. Why?"

"You need to calm down."

"Yes, Neal. I'm going to calm down and go buy a doughnut while my wife is somewhere is out there, _missing_!" Peter snapped, eyeing him incredulously. "Quite the plan!"

Neal stopped him. "Hold on! First of all, Smoothies are not out of the question," he began. "What I was saying, however, is that you should calm down and think about this." He gestured back toward the road, in the direction they'd come from. "What does cussing out senior citizens have to do with finding El?"

Peter exhaled. "That's the thing — I _can't_ find her. They took me off the case!"

Neal smiled, setting his crossed feet on the dashboard and leaning his seat back. "And who said we have to be on the case?"

Peter squinted, attention acquired. "You're saying..."

"Let's find El without the bureau," Neal offered, hands outstretched. "I do have some experience with kidnappers, you know. So does Mozzie."

"Yeah, because Mozzie _was_ one." Peter snarked, taking off his seatbelt and turning off the car. "And last time I checked, your kidnapping investigation with Kate..."

Neal inhaled, waiting for the blow that was sure to come, but Peter spoke no more. He took the moment to explain. "Look, I know I don't have a very good résumé when it comes to hostage situations, but this is El. She's important to both of us." He looked at Peter seriously. "She's not Kate."

Peter inhaled. "And what's different in this situation?" he challenged, giving Neal pause. He hadn't expected any questioning, but he, too, had wondered that. What _was _different?

Neal's eloquent self took over, however, and replied, "This time, I'm working _with _you; not against you." He hesitated, then added, "And with my criminal skills, plus your Federal gadgets, and Mozzie's inside knowledge, we might just make a healthy match for this Extortionist."

Peter considered his words, as if it were an offer, or moreover, even an _option_, when it was the only choice they had, in his eyes. Because of that, he nodded in agreement. "Only for El." He pointed an accusatory finger at Neal. "But nothing... too illegal."

He raised his eyebrows gleefully. "_Too_ illegal? So a little, maybe?" He incited no response, but continued. "I like desperate Peter. He's more fun."

Peter chuckled mirthlessly. "Yeah, well, not for me."

They fell silent, eyes lowering at the humorous conversation. They'd almost gotten away with a laugh. _Almost. _But the moment in time had passed, and they were reminded of their situation, and their loss. Now, he didn't know what to say. In a way, he wanted to try to comfort Peter; he knew he was scared. But what could he say to make things better? What could he promise a man with everything he loved at stake?

_Nothing_. Nothing but a vote of confidence, and loyalty. Between a rock and a hard place, the rock didn't seem to be giving, and in that light, there was nothing he could do but apologize. And he almost had, to break the silence they sat in. But Peter spoke first.

"So, we can head over to your place," he volunteered, obviously not wanting to go home to the reminders of El everywhere. Neal couldn't blame him for that. "I've got a copy of the clues, so if you want to take a look..."

His voice trailed off, a dazed look in his eye, staring at something next to the wheel. Neal followed his gaze and found a GPS screen; one red light blinked above it.

He blinked at the screen, stare shifting between Peter and the light. "Peter?"

He looked at Neal tremulously, then back at the screen. "That call I got in the van. You don't think..." he mumbled dryly, confirming Neal's worry. He swallowed. _Oh, no..._

He jabbed a finger on the touch-screen and opened his voicemail, revealing a message from Elizabeth — recent. Neal's eyes widened at the sight, preparing to say something, but he was interrupted with El's voice.

_"Hey hon. I guess you're busy, but when you can, would you give me a call?" _

Peter's eyes glossed over, so Neal looked away, not wanting to watch his partner cry. He remembered hearing Kate's voice on that flight recording, and the mixed emotions bouncing around inside his head. It must have felt the same way.

_"I... I just wanted to apologize for getting so mad earlier. I guess you really only did what you did for me; I appreciate having a husband that cares so much."_

Peter clutched the wheel dangerously tight, knuckles turning white, but otherwise didn't respond.

_"I'm just a little scared about this. But when it comes down to it, I know I can trust you to catch this guy. I..."_

She paused, Peter and Neal hanging on her every recorded word, waiting for a sound, a sign; this message was left around the time of abduction. As no more sound came out of the car speaker, Neal inhaled and closed his eyes, listening for anything, any kind of noise. He knew Peter was doing the same.

_"Anyway, I hope your stakeout goes well, and-"_

They both jumped as a large thud sounded off, then El's cry of pain, followed by the phone hitting the sidewalk... footsteps... and a car engine starting. It all happened so quickly that Neal reached out and rewound the recording, playing it again; once, twice, three times. He listened carefully for any and all clues, only three coming to mind; the thud, the footsteps, and the engine. Mozzie could probably distinguish these clues and come up with a general direction...

Neal didn't finish the thought as the sound of Peter slamming his fists into the steering wheel jolted him from his mind. He looked to his left and saw Peter, face wet with smeared-away tears, regret and self-blame hanging over him like a cloud. He pounded the wheel relentlessly, over and over again. Neal didn't know how to respond. Was he supposed to stop him, or just let him take it out on the car rather than him?

Fortunately, his decision wasn't too long-lived, for Peter stopped short with a final blow and covered his face. He didn't say anything, so Neal supplied a sentence.

"You really taught that wheel a lesson."

Peter looked up at him devastatingly, making him regret the joke. He closed his eyes and exhaled shakily. "I should have answered that phone call."

"Peter, it was my fault," Neal admitted. "I was the one who teased you about answering it."

Peter didn't deny or accept that, but simply asked, "What's our first move?"

* * *

After what she'd assumed to be a half-hour, El had thoroughly scanned the room, searching for an exit or even a clue as to where she was. The two men guarding the captives were practically statues, making no sound or motion in the entirety of her capture thus far. It was unnerving and, on a strange note, comforting at the same time. She might have buckled under the pressure of the men walking around her... staring at her... But then, someone else already had.

El turned to the shaken woman and examined her carefully; it was evident that she'd never been in such hostile situations nor had imagined the possibility of them, and was, not to mince words, in knots. She didn't appear to be harmed, other than the chaff of the cuffs they'd both received. El was in worse condition than she.

To her utmost surprise, El's fellow captive finally averted her eyes from the dirty wooden floor and met the blue eyes staring her down. She squinted but didn't speak, pulling her legs closer to her chest. El decided to try some conversation.

"Hi," she began nervously. The woman didn't respond, but held her gaze, so El continued. "I-I'm Elizabeth... Elizabeth Burke." Still no reaction. "You're the Mayor's wife, right? I remember planning your nephew's birthday party last year." She was received with silence.

But eventually, her companion replied, though quietly and briefly under her breath. "The pirate party of the century." She looked over at Elizabeth, lips parting and eyebrows rising. "You're the woman from Burke's Premiere Events."

El smiled warmly, shifting toward her. "That's me."

She blinked, a small smile hinting at her face but not officially appearing. "I'm Katrina Marx."

Elizabeth looked down at her handcuffs and remarked, "I'd shake your hand, but..."

For a second, she worried about her humor's effect on Katrina, but fortunately, she took it lightheartedly, changing the subject. "So why are you here?"

She squinted at her. "Certainly not for the Kidnap Club."

Katrina laughed shortly. "No, I mean... You're not..."

She understood immediately. "My husband. He's an FBI agent."

"Oh," Katrina nodded. "That's..." She trailed off, no word formatted for such a contrary sentence. They fell silent, looking at the floor simultaneously.

Katrina was the first to speak again this time. "Do you think they'll pay the ransom for us?"

El sucked in a breath, as she'd been hoping to avoid this topic. She knew they _wouldn't_ pay the ransom, instead focusing on finding the kidnapper, but how could she possibly sell that to Mrs. Mayor?

The brunette looked at the blonde and bit her lip. "I... I don't..." She couldn't lie, so she settled for the truth. "They'll get us out of here."

"What do we do until then?"

El frowned. "We wait."

* * *

_**Shorter chapter, but lemme say why...**_

_**IT'S MY BIRTHDAY! Happy birthday to me :)**_

_**I wanted to post a chapter on my birthday, which is why this is a sooner update, but I'm taking the WHOLE DAY off writing, so I posted something I've already written. So much is happening; including the fact that we're coming up on 50 reviews! The lucky 50th reviewer gets the next chapter dedicated to them, so if you happen to be number 50, keep an eye out for a mention at the top of Chapter XIV.**_

_**Poor Peter - guilt will get you nowhere. Neal's being the supportive friend, however, so I think Peter will be okay. And El is a smart one. Perhaps she has a plan in motion already...  
**_

_**What's the verdict on Katrina? Hate writing original characters into fanfiction, but I had to give her someone to work off. I don't know if trusting her is the best strategy for El, but what does she have to work with, at this point? Not much.**_

_**What did you think? Leave a review, pretty please... Oh, and note to Peter/El shippers: **__If you need something to read or are in the mood for something short, check out my oneshot, "Shine", taken out of an uncompleted story. It took a nervous breakdown and a pitch-black room to pull it outta me, but I like it._**  
**

**_* *-TheSongbird341-* *_**

* * *

_DISCLAIMER__: I don't own White Collar, but Katrina is mine, unfortunately... For an OC, I really do hate her to death._

* * *

**P.S. SPOILER ALERT! -** _Tiffani Thiessen just did an interview with some Glad bag thingy, and IN IT, she released that in Season 5, the show explores the reason WHY Peter & El haven't had kids. A.K.A. the answer we've ALL been waiting for._**  
**


	14. Chapter XIV

**The Extortionist**

* * *

_When the infamous Extortionist hits NYC, Peter's got his hands full – between leading the investigation no man has completed, protecting his pregnant wife from a kidnapper gunning for her, and keeping Neal under control. Can he keep the inevitable from happening, or will he end up enlisting Neal and Mozzie in a quest to retrieve what has been taken from him?_

* * *

**Chapter XIV**

* * *

_This chapter is dedicated to my one and only 50th reviewer, MarJan53. There's a note for you at the bottom :)_

* * *

"Alright," Peter began, walking behind Neal and into his particular room in June's unbelievably-large estate. He stepped past his company and made a beeline to the dining table, upon which he hoisted his briefcase and cracked it open. "What are we looking for?"

"Clues," Neal answered, closing the door behind him. He elaborated with his steps toward the table. "In the notes, maybe. Phone calls, emails, stuff like that. Anything that could point us toward their location or something alike."

Peter looked up at him momentarily, eyebrows raised. "Why?"

Neal blinked at him. "To find her?" _Keep it together, Peter._

He seemed confused at his response, staring at him for a moment, before shaking his head. "No... I mean, why would he leave any kind of clue?" he asked, straightening up in his stance. "From what I've gathered, I assumed he didn't want to be caught."

"Not at first," Neal corrected him and turned on his heel, in search of three drinks – enough for all of them. Over his shoulder, he continued, "From what's been passed around in his mention, he's playing a different kind of game these past years. He's easily bored, and, unless I'm mistaken..." He returned to the table, setting the refreshments on the table. "...he's looking for a challenger."

Peter squinted at Neal, watching him place the drinks on the table. "You're serious?"

Neal nodded quickly as he pulled a chair out for himself, falling into it. "This is all a game to him, Peter. I wouldn't put a single thing past him."

"Neither would I, at this point," Peter muttered, settling into his own seat. "So, what are we looking through?"

"The clues," Neal replied, leaning back in his chair.

"But we've already figured those out," Peter pointed out obviously, though he still rifled through the case for what Neal requested.

"Technically, you have," Neal inhaled, leaning over to peek into the case. "One face of them, maybe. You'd be surprised how many different answers there are to one riddle, if you put it in perspective."

Peter fought the urge to roll his eyes when they came across one of the all-too-poetic notes amidst the clutter of papers he'd hastily shoveled into his case. "I can see he has a tendency toward wordplay."

Neal shrugged it off. "Anyone can make a riddle. It's only a distorted description of something that should be clear. The difficult thing is actually making sense."

Peter nodded his silent agreement, though much more focused on the table before him. He'd soon enough found both clues, each written out in different handwriting – he made one out to be Jones's, as he recognized the swooping letters after years of working together – along with the notes on his vehicular history and the originally-planned highway blockades. That should be all they needed, if they knew what they were doing. He just hoped the did make something out of all this. He couldn't imagine how devastating it would be to later look back and realize that what would've given them everything they needed was right in front of them the whole time, never noticed, never considered...

He glanced up at Neal curiously, thoughts leading him down an entirely different trail. "Neal?"

Neal met Peter's eyes. "What?"

"Why did you get three drinks?"

Neal didn't get a chance to answer him, as the door instead burst open to punctuate the question. "I know I'm late!" a familiar voice called out from behind, causing them both to turn their heads instantly. "I ran into this woman; I wasn't sure where we met at first, but she kept screaming at me; calling me Michael..."

Mozzie's voice trailed off at the sight of the two men staring at him, as if he'd intruded on a private affair when he'd only gone where he'd been invited. He swallowed, hand freezing on the doorknob. "It's a long story."

"Not long enough for you to be here," Peter stated briskly, distaste showing through accidentally. Mozzie took offense.

"Actually, Suit," he countered, stepping into the room swiftly. "I was invited."

Peter didn't seem to understand, and let out a flat "What?", less of a question than observed.

Neal took this opportunity to stand up and moved between the two of them, unsure of where they stood with each other on a personal level. He didn't label Peter as most likely to hold a grudge, but then, he'd never factored in this kind of passive-aggressive stress mode the man had adopted under the dire circumstances. It was better not to take the chance.

"Peter," Neal exhaled, stepping next to the two men where they faced off between the door and the table, certain not to meet the other in either place. "I asked him to come. He's our best chance at finding her."

"He was our best chance at _losing _her, too."

Peter's eyes were locked on the short man that incited such an intense controversy of relief and displeasure, to know both that they would have the best man for the job and that the best man was the man who got them into the situation in the first place. Neal could see in his eyes the strong consideration to pummel the smaller man, and added what he knew would change his mind.

"We're giving El all we've got," he said quietly, looking him in the eyes, "right?"

That backed him in a corner, so that he simply couldn't say no. With a sigh, he turned to Mozzie. "Fine, okay. Get over here." He motioned toward the table, upon which Mozzie approached, taking care not to get in Peter's space on his way.

Neal returned to his seat, along with Mozzie, so that they all sat in a triangle at the table. Peter didn't wait for any conversation before pulling a packed file out of his briefcase, including the notes, plans, and lists that were kept with the FBI alone. Neal's eyes widened. "Peter, that's the case file."

"Twenty points to the kid in the fedora," Peter mumbled without even looking up.

Neal brushed the comment off and kept going. "I didn't know you could possess a file copy on a case you aren't working."

Peter took a single second to look up at Neal, and left him with a questionable answer. "You can't."

Neal and Mozzie looked as if Peter had just admitted to murder – not that they hadn't done things alike in their lifetimes. Even then, no one expected such a thing from Special Agent Peter Burke, rule-follower extraordinaire, Mr. No-Grey-Areas. They were dumbstruck.

Peter caught their silence and immediately looked up at them. "Don't look at me like that. I can stand a little blemish on my record," he pointed out seriously, not giving them any credit for gaping at him. "...unlike some of us here."

That shut them up.

He accepted the wordless response and slid the file across the table, landing in front of Mozzie. "Here," he said calmly, inhaling as he watched the smaller man eye the pages. "Tell me what you see."

Mozzie shook his head and responded, "Nothing good." His eyes trailed the papers up and down, flipping each page faster than the last, until Peter doubted he had enough time to properly _read_ them. Once he'd reached the final page, he glanced up at his companions; only Peter, actually. He didn't say anything about the file immediately, but instead, "You're holding something back."

Neal raised an eyebrow and shifted his gaze to Peter, who, apparently, was caught. Mozzie really must have known his stuff to know something was missing without even seeing it taken.

Peter hesitated for a moment, weighing his options, before removing two folded pieces of notebook paper from his briefcase – which confused Neal. That didn't look like something worth hiding, as it wasn't a certain federal document or even anything personal... just paper. Moreover, how had Mozzie so easily anticipated its removal from his view, mere offhanded scribbles on a notebook sheet?

What was revealed to be on the papers proved more important than he'd imagined, however, as Mozzie then verbalized their contents. "'Betwixt the two trees, a shattered glass gleams; the streets abuzz with her yellow enemies.'"

Neal nodded as the eloquent threat he'd heard before was now reiterated for them. "El's clue. What do you make of it?"

Mozzie paused for a moment, as if to consider his answering that. He didn't quite know _what _to make of it – straightforward, blatant, physical clues. There was no emotional play, no point made or agenda shoved down the throats of all aware. This wasn't like him.

To make sense of it all, he gave up on the second clue and turned to the first; that of the mayor's wife. _A square faded with time and space, lights shine down from a high place; people's lives surround it and it haunts her..._

There lay a few key references he sought; firstly, the emotional standpoint. He was tugging at her fear of the public with his mention of surrounding lives and haunting thoughts, meaning the game wasn't too entirely changed. At the same time, however, he found the physical clues quite unnerving. He clearly spoke of Times Square, while Mozzie certainly had not been aware of her living there, and combining with Elizabeth's pointed references to both her bee sting allergy (as she'd informed him while they worked together) and the actual trees and glass he'd spotted outside of her shop – as he was quite the observer, compared to the others – the notes appeared less and less subtle with each word read. What was the catch? Where was the trick?

"He just took her in the middle of Times Square..." Mozzie muttered to himself, astounded. It didn't make sense. It was simply impossible.

"She wasn't in Times Square."

The shortest of the three turned up to face the voice; Neal's, to be precise. "What?"

Neal shook his head and reached a hand over to point at the clue. "That's what he wanted us to think. The square was an old area they moved into last year; lanterns were the lights." _There_ was the twist.

Peter jumped in while the air was dead, turning the attention to the other clue. "He knew we were pushing Diana... somehow. He doubled the reference with a more obvious area she always passes on her way to work, so that's where we were when he took her."

"Perhaps there is more to these than meets the eye," Mozzie offered, eyes traveling upward to the rest of the table. "These clues are priceless sources of evidence, Suit. I suggest you don't try to maintain such a tight grip on control, if you want this process to play out smoothly."

Neal froze. _Uh-oh..._

He'd known from the instant it was said that Peter would be angered, and surely enough, he was. He didn't show it at first, but replied, "Considering I'm the only person certified to investigate this case, I'd say it's best that I _am _in control."

"Now, Suit..."

"You know what, Moz?" Neal cut him off, grabbing his attention. "Maybe it's best we keep things on a mutual level of-"

Peter raised a hand to stop Neal, having his own bite to provide. "Hold on, Neal. Let's hear him out," he offered, turning to face Mozzie. "Go on; tell us how he did it. I mean, it's best to consult the man with most _experience_, right?"

"Peter-"

"I use my knowledge for good!" Mozzie demanded, offended at the call he'd made. His past may have been a blurry topic, but it certainly wasn't something he'd like held against him.

Peter's voice fell an octave with the words out of his mouth next. "It wasn't good enough to keep history from repeating itself _again_."

"Okay, you guys..."

Mozzie scoffed. "For a man who wants all hands on deck, you're certainly picky. I'm not sure you have a lot of options right now, Suit!"

"I don't need you to tell me what I already know!" Peter snapped, rising from his seat at the table.

"But you need me to explain what you know!" Mozzie countered as he stood, picking up the note and waving it in Peter's face. "Without me, this means nothing!"

Peter flew off the handle. "Alright, _wise one_! What _does_ it mean?"

"It _means _that El could be hurt any minute now, and you two are just counting the seconds off your fingers!"

That clearly caught their attention, as they finally managed to keep quiet to realize that the other hadn't spoken again, but their observer had. They both turned to Neal, who was so suddenly on his feet with an exasperated expression visibly taking over his face. He was already sick of the two arguing, and had a feeling it would have continued into the evening had he not taken charge. He wasn't sure interrupting would calm the tension either, but it was better than simply watching.

"I don't care what is going on between you two," Neal stated in frustration, glancing between the two quickly. He settled his gaze on Peter and began, "Yes, it's partially Mozzie's fault that El is where she is..."

"_Partially?_" Peter echoed incredulously.

"...but if you want to find El before she's seriously hurt, you've got to get over it and work with what we've got!" Neal demanded, not giving him a chance to butt in. "You can't put her at risk like that."

"And Mozzie!" He spun around to the other equally-immature man and read him due riot act. "Whether you like it or not, you owe it to Peter to help us fix what we all broke. You don't get to do this 'one-foot-in, one-foot-out' dance. It's not fair to anyone." His voice fell a few notes, until it was nearly silent. "Are you in or not?"

Mozzie huffed. "Of course, I'm in."

Upon hearing the answer he was waiting for, he fell back into his seat and pointed at the note on the table. "Then tell us what you know."

"Okay," Mozzie relented, sitting down in time with Peter. He grabbed the note from Neal and set it next to the one he'd held in his hand, comparing the two. After doing so, he looked up at the other two and said quietly, "Everything we need is right here."

Peter raised an eyebrow. "In the notes?"

"Yes, _in the notes_," he bit back, harsh tone warned by Neal's sparring eyes. Mozzie diminished his tone and returned his focus to the work at hand. "If there's one thing I know about this guy, though overshadowed by the wonder of his identity, it's that he does not mince words. Ever," he clarified, eyes stony.

He continued, "I noticed that this year's hints were almost-completely restricted to physical mentions, and I was recalled to a few years back, in a similar situation." He turned the notes around to face them and studied them. "I have a hunch that the many landmarks referenced were hinting at a much deeper revelation... one that could possibly disclose the current location of the Extortionist, and El."

Intrigued, Peter sat up. "How would we find it?"

"I imagine," Mozzie inhaled, refocusing on the notes and pulling out a pen. "that if we compare Mrs. Mayor's clue to Mrs. Suit's, we might be able to deduce a common key that could lead us to the second location. Something small, something similar..."

"You think he'd play that card again?" Neal questioned, squinting.

"No one on the outside ever made sense of it." Mozzie shrugged. "I don't see why not."

Peter glanced at his watch briefly before nodding. "Well, we've got twenty-three hours. Let's make them count."

* * *

Much time passed, and the two women, after wistfully speaking about their work, husbands, and lives for as long as they had the words, were reduced to exchanging gardening tips. Elizabeth was not extremely interested by the conversation, but it was better to have her only companion speaking rather than rocking back and forth wordlessly on the floor. She had given her plenty of helpful ideas, and kept her mind off her current situation, the handcuffs threatening to embed themselves in her skin, and mostly of all, her husband. For the first time that day, she actually felt like the wife of a handsome FBI agent rather than the victim of a kidnapping.

But fleeting as that notion was, the two women were soon interrupted by the door opening and a man in jean overalls stumbled in, carrying two bowls precariously in his bony hands. El recognized him as the face she'd been met with at the door, hours before. If the man with the wiry gray mustache was the custodian of the large establishment, she felt supremely piteous to him; it must have been quite the dreary job to clean after this Extortionist's victims day and night. However, although contrary to her empathetic nature, she couldn't feel too sorry for anyone involved in the abductions of innocent human beings, including herself.

Elizabeth and Katrina stopped talking and looked up at the man standing before them, holding out the bowls. He looked as if he expected them to take the dishes from him, still extending his hands to them. El stared up at him, wondering if he really didn't get it or if he was simply teasing them. He didn't appear sinister.

She slowly turned to her right, exposing her cuffed hands to the man. His eyebrows shot up, realization dawning on him. He was all nervous chuckles as he set the bowls on the floor before them and stuck his hands in his pockets, searching them for what was later revealed to be a key. When it was in his hand, he looked down at the ladies, puffed up his scrawny chest, and ordered, "Stand up if you wanna eat."

Elizabeth looked over at Katrina, who was dread with fright; oddly, as the man didn't seem the least bit intimidating, try as he may. "Seems like a fair trade," she jested, kneeling up on one leg and rising onto the other with only a small amount of effort. Attempting to cajole Katrina out of her easily-mortified state, she cooperated fully with Mustache and was soon released from her cuffs. She exhaled in relief of her temporary-emancipation and nudged Katrina, encouraging her to mimic her actions. Although sparing a look of agitation and a moment of hesitation, she finally stood and turned her back to the custodian, who soon thereafter freed her of her bonds.

Mustache handed them their bowls and held up their handcuffs. "These go back on the moment you finish."

The two men that had originally blocked the door now stood behind him, crossing their arms. "Any funny business will be punished and regretted."

The older man looked between the two younger and imitated their poses, crossing his arms in an attempt to look larger. "Yeah. No funny business."

An awkward silence befell the three, causing the two ladies significant discomfort. Not sparing a glance to her stoic companion, Elizabeth turned on her heel, marched over to the table, and halted until she heard footsteps behind her. Katrina had soon followed, not wanting to be alone, as did the custodian. She took a seat and motioned for Mrs. Marx to sit to her left. They both set their bowls on the table and examined their contents: soup. Obviously canned, as a woman who often worked with food could tell, with small chunks that almost resembled food floating around in the broth, but it was food, and El hadn't eaten enough that day to certify being picky. That being said, or rather thought, she didn't hesitate to grab a spoonful. It was only when the spoon had almost entered her mouth, grazing her sore, fleshy lips that she'd torn with nervous teeth prior, that a hideous thought made her stomach turn: who's to say the soup wasn't poisoned? She dropped her spoon, sending it plopping into the watered-down substance with a splash.

El froze as the other two's eyes were suddenly trained on her, both cautiously investigative. She ignored the man staring her down and instead turned her attention to the pale-faced woman beside her. Glancing from her face to the soup pointedly, she tried to make a statement with her eyes she'd rather the custodian wouldn't have picked up on. He had, however, noticed, and stepped closer to her.

Grimacing, he crossed his arms and huffed, "The soup is nice and healthy for you ladies, I'll assure you of that. The boss wants you alive for ransom. He won't kill you."

This would've been reassuring, had he not later added "yet" to his already-questionable sentence.

As Elizabeth worked at clearing the spilled soup from the table, early-kindled desperation began setting in at the mention of ransom. Ransom was the only reason she was alive at the moment; knowledge of this was courtesy to Mustache. The FBI stated they would under no circumstances pay the ransom, as they were sick of playing by the Extortionist's rules and losing bucket-loads of money for the return of shaken, broken people. Would she be killed before Peter could find her? Would she end up one of those broken people? Would she "end up" at all?

There were rare situations in which the FBI did resort to ransom: when one of their own was taken, when a child was kidnapped, when someone of great importance was snatched; but these weren't by criminals established over years of abduction. Elizabeth fit none of these types. Her only hope was that her husband would get angry, like he did whenever either Neal did something stupid or someone he cared about was put in harm's way, and that it would be a force driving enough to pull the whole White Collar division down with him.

But she digressed. Point made, she now returned to tending to her obtrusively demanding stomach.

After downing the thin broth, her throat was no longer dry but the meal had hardly supplied her hunger. Still, she appreciated what she was given and pretended not to be disappointed when the handcuffs reappeared.

Pulled from her chair sharply, her arm was scraped with the sharper end of the cuffs she now donned and she bit back a sharp remark to the custodian solely to set an example for Katrina, the reserved woman who still refused to speak in the company of the older man. Soon she was bound again but revitalized. At least, she wouldn't starve. She wouldn't be killed, yet. Peter was still out there. So there was no need to worry. And she basked in this small hope as her feet paced across the room heavily, not allowing her heart to sink for as long as she could.

Peter would come for her. She'd never doubted him before. She wouldn't start now.

* * *

_**Here we are! Chapter 14, and nearly halfway through the story. The next chapter will have a little more El action, and a LOT of Peter/Neal/Mozzie speculation on the clues and the whereabouts of El and the Extortionist. I think it's kinda funny to see them go back and forth on, well, I'll call it the "Gemini subject." Trust me, that'll make sense later.**_

_**AND AS FOR THE 50TH REVIEWER, let's all give a big hand for**MarJan53! Thanks for reviewing, and for the birthday wish :) This chapter is dedicated to you and your awesomeness._

**_So, what's the verdict? Make sure to leave a review and let me know what you think! It's clear that El is being careful around this custodian and his soups. She isn't a fool. And Peter and Mozzie need to get it together if they're gonna get El back! I never really imagined Neal as their mediator, but it worked, so why not?_**

**BY THE WAY:_ the word is that_ **_the cast of White Collar is beginning filming on May 10th! _ **_That, plus I found out that_** _instead of having a split season, 10 episodes and 4-5 episodes after a break, this season is going all the way through without a break... which is why they pushed it back to the fall instead of premiering in the summer. **Who's excited? ME!**__  
_

_*** *-TheSongbird341-* ***_

* * *

_DISCLAIMER: I don't own White Collar, but I own everything kidnapping-related that you see :)_


	15. Chapter XV

**The Extortionist**

* * *

_When the infamous Extortionist hits NYC, Peter's got his hands full – between leading the investigation no man has completed, protecting his pregnant wife from a kidnapper gunning for her, and keeping Neal under control. Can he keep the inevitable from happening, or will he end up enlisting Neal and Mozzie in a quest to retrieve what has been taken from him?_

* * *

**Chapter XV**

* * *

Mozzie elected to read aloud to the others, hoping to excite some memories or clues from key phrases with more ease than if pored over by the eyes alone. He began slowly, as if reading to children, with the first clue. "_A square faded with time and space, where lights shine down from a higher place; people's lives surround it..._" He glanced between the two men and finished, "_and it haunts her._"

"Her home, or Times Square," Peter recited, as if to remind them. "Two different locations."

"Three, if we play our cards right," Mozzie corrected him, sliding the paper toward the other two, since he'd already read through it multiple times in his head. "Now, these clues are not so easy for the naked eye of any man. They are direct, like open letters. If anyone could have known what this riddle meant before a Marx had been taken, it would have been a Marx."

Peter eyed him for a moment. "You're saying there's no telling if we'll be able to understand this?"

Mozzie grimaced, shuffling his hands. "The chances are slim, which is why no one has officially succeeded-"

"Yet," Neal inserted, leaning toward the table. "But we will."

Catching their attention, his blue eyes traveled to Peter's, which were uncertain and unnerved. Because of that, he added something that he truly did believe, and hoped Peter did, too.

"If anyone can find a Burke, it's a Burke," Neal stated with conviction, serious in his belief of his friend. "And you will."

His eyed opened a little bit more at this proclamation, as if he didn't expect any sort of support from the younger man. He should have, however, as he would certainly find it there; if he looked, he'd find it anywhere, from anyone. Peter Burke had a way of pulling that kind of friendship and morale from whomever he called, or sometimes didn't call, his friend. Neal was no different.

Peter seemed touched by the interruption of his guilt that had even ventured to relieve him of his frown lines and put him back in a strong state of mind again. Starting to see the brighter side of the situation, he turned back to their evidence and mentally tore it apart. _A square faded with time and space..._

Mozzie broke the silence, looking around at the two. "Look closely. Search for patterns; letters, manuscript form, dual meaning..."

His voice trailed off, while Peter and Neal wracked their brains. Peter first attempted to rearrange the words, in order to make a more desirable sentence or description. His mind raced through different possibilities:_ A faded square, in time and space. A square in space, fading through time. A fading time in squared space. _No matter how he spun it, there wasn't any sense in it. _Something square, something faded, something in time, something in space..._

"Okay, _square_," Neal offered, pulling the paper toward him. "Something square..."

"A square has four sides," Peter pointed out, looking at Mozzie. "Try putting every fourth word together."

Mozzie took these instructions and looked down at the note, pupils dilating. He read aloud, "With, where, from, people's, and." He glanced up quickly, excitement dulled. "That's not it."

"Try every other word."

The two gave Neal an odd look, but he explained himself quickly. "The exponent for a square is the number two."

Mozzie again consulted the note, this time with more to pull from. _A, time, space, lights, down, a, place, lives, it, it, her. _"That doesn't make sense either. Keep thinking."

Peter shrugged, a thought entering his mind. "We've got _time_; what could that mean?"

Neal jumped aboard Peter's train of thought and asked Mozzie, "How many words are there?"

After a brief moment of silence, he had their answer. "Twenty-three. The twenty-third hour of the day is 11:00 P.M.."

Peter shook his head. "She was taken over fourteen hours earlier. That's not it."

"_Space_, then," Mozzie supplied, although questioning his own theory. "Space... as in room, or the Final Frontier?"

Neal raised his eyebrows, mind swimming with eyes. There were so many possibilities for a word like _space. _He didn't know where to start. "We could be playing with an aerial position. Possibly a sundial or skyline. It might even be coordinates, which could make this much harder."

_Where lights shine down from a higher place... A higher place. Lights._

"Stars," Peter clarified, setting his hands on the table. "The lights are stars."

Mozzie liked where he was going with that and straightened up to meet their eyes. "I happen to know a good deal about constellations. If he's working an astronomical angle, we'll have him."

"Do we know her star sign?" Neal asked, not expecting them to have any clue. None of them knew her personally... although the Mayor had put up a huge fuss for her birthday the previous year. Neal didn't remember when exactly that had been held, but he didn't doubt Mozzie would.

And he did. "Her party was on the 27th of May, meaning she's a Gemini," he informed them, leaning forward in his chair. Now in his element even more so, he became more deeply involved. "The Gemini are under the sign of the Gemini Twins, Castor and Pollux. That could shed light on anything doubled, mirrored, or repeated."

"Like two trees?" Peter suggested, hinting to the clue he was more invested in interpreting. He pulled them out of their deep concentration and into a new one with two words, which piqued their interests instantaneously.

"Two trees and two Gemini," Neal admitted, stretching his fingers as he spoke. "What does that mean?"

Mozzie shook his head silently, considering exactly _what _that meant. The theme was _two_ – two victims, two twins, two trees... Would he only kidnap two? He doubted that. By now his addiction must have grown too strong to alter, and if he was correct, these coincidences were meant to direct them to a _location_, rather than a change in the game.

"What do we know about twins?"

Neal had something, but was uncertain on how to bring it about in conversation. His eyes shifted to Peter, where he sat across from him, and he tried to read how this affected his eyes, to no avail. So he just came out with it. "Peter, were you two expecting...?"

He hadn't understood his question at first, simply watching Neal with an odd expression. "I don't..."

His face changed. "No! No, we didn't... we never..." His voice trailed off, but Neal got the point and let it slide.

Mozzie had no idea what they were going on about, naturally, and simply began rattling off a thousand different old pop-cultural references of twins. "There's The Parent Trap, of course. One could argue for the Skywalkers. Twin Peaks is always a possibility. The Olson twins seem like decorated clones to me, but-"

"That's it!"

Peter flew up out of his seat, cutting Mozzie off mid-sentence. Neal's eyes widened, standing up with him, while Mozzie simply stared at his random outburst. Neither fully understood his exclamation, but Neal was starting to become concerned. "Peter, I know you're concerned, but the Olson twins-"

"Clones!" erupted from the man seated below them.

"-but that's a stretch, even for you," he finished around the verbal obstruction, voice sober in his attempt to bring Peter to earth. Peter surprised him by actually giving a sensible response.

"No!" he stopped him insistently. He grabbed the note off the table and looked it over again. "Not the Olsons; Twin Peaks!"

"What does that have to do with anything?" Neal questioned, still not convinced that Peter was making sense even to himself.

But he did know what he was talking about, and immediately explained himself with ease. "For a couple years, El and I took vacations on these two mountains – at the Gemini Mountains Resort. The landscape was leveled a decade back, and they tried to rebuild and pick up again." His eyes flicked from the paper to Neal. "They didn't keep in business, but the building's still there."

Mozzie finally stood to meet them, interested in what Peter was offering. "That makes sense. A vacant building in the middle of nowhere, with background in one of the victim's lives..."

Neal immediately grabbed his jacket, a sign of his readiness to take off. "It's worth checking out."

Mozzie, too, prepared to leave. He looked at Peter first, asking, "Do you have a roadmap?"

Peter grabbed his own coat and closed the briefcase he'd left open on the dining table. "I'll do you one better."

* * *

"W-what are you doing?"

Elizabeth's eyes moved upward from where she stared at the ground. She froze, hands ceasing behind back, as she found herself caught in her actions. She didn't know that she wanted Katrina to know what she was doing at the moment, as she didn't entirely trust her to keep her mouth shut or even to comply without making a mess of it. It would've been easier to try to escape without the extra baggage, although El knew inside that it would be wrong to leave her fellow captive behind. In the end, however, she'd expected that to be _her _call, not theirs.

Still, she supposed that it was always easier to have help, and she was stuck in her own plan at the moment. So she resolved to ask a simple question, without fully revealing her intentions or keeping them classified. She asked, "Do you have any hair pins?"

Katrina blinked at her, clearly confused at her not-quite-answer. She hadn't expected a question, but for this particular one, she had an answer – one Elizabeth liked. "Maybe, in my pocket. Why?"

El inhaled, considering how to answer. She could be honest and say that she was breaking out, without offering to include her. Was that really her personality, though? Could she really cut her out of something that meant life or death for both of them?

"Do you want to get out of here?" she eventually proposed, shifting anxiously.

Katrina seemed amused at her question, half-laughing with a hint of sardonicism thrown in for measure. "I have for the past day-and-a-half."

Taking that response, she took a second to scan the expressions of the men guarding them; they didn't appear to notice them, nor hear their conversation. Just in case, she lowered her voice before speaking again. She didn't want them to hear this.

"Then give me a pin," El ordered under her breath, sounding more authoritative than she felt. "I can pick the handcuffs."

Katrina's eyebrows nearly hit her hairline. "_You_ know how to-"

"Mhm," she reassured her quietly, only cutting her off for the sake of the volume she was injecting into her sentences. "If I can pick these handcuffs, I have a feeling I can get us out of here. I just need a pin."

She nodded a bit, glancing downward. "I think I have one in my front pocket. Give me a second."

"Don't look suspicious," El reminded her calmly.

Katrina then proceeded to painstakingly slide her wrists upward along her back, arms twisting backward at the awkward angle she was forced to work through by the inconvenient handcuffs she was working toward removing. Up she went, reaching her arms around her right side, clutching tightly against her ribcage. As she worked her way into the tight pocket, she spoke her mind in a whisper. "You don't seem like a lock-picking kind of person."

El had to spare a small chuckle at that. She was told things like that all too often. "Guilty by association," she replied, glad to have something to laugh at in a time like this. She remembered how Peter had reacted when he'd walked downstairs to find both that Neal had handcuffed his wife to the railing, _and_ that he'd taught her how to get out of it. He'd had it out with Neal that day, even sending him home before they'd discussed their case together. But she'd somehowmanaged to persuade him to call and invite Neal over again; that's where Peter's hand-me-down hostage-negotiation tips had come in handy, except Peter wasn't a hostage, and there was very little _negotiation_ involved.

Her face fell a bit, as the memory made her miss her husband and her home. She didn't want to start the emotional downward spiral quite yet, however, and immediately banished the train of thought. Instead of her home life, she focused on the present situation, and asked, "Got that pin yet?"

"Yeah," Katrina reported, nodding backward to her hands; within them El saw a pin poking out between her fingers. That was exactly what she needed. "Turn a little. I'll hand it to you."

Elizabeth complied, inconspicuously turning to her left and stretching her fingers to accept the pin. Soon, she felt a small hair pin land in her hand, and knew what to do from there. Turning her back to the wall in hopes of concealing her actions, she wriggled the rubber tip off with her fingernails, leaving a sharp end quite useful for her freedom. With one innocent glance at the man standing nearest to her, she began working away at her handcuffs, bending her wrists to a point of pain in order to insert the point of the pin into the lock.

She felt the other woman's steely eyes on her as she worked the pin into the cuffs and feared she was about to blow their shot by attracting too much attention. "Don't look at me," she whispered, blowing her hair out of her face as she felt the intense desperation of the moment collecting on her forehead. "We don't want them to notice."

Katrina immediately looked away, waiting impatiently as Elizabeth thought this through, trying not to panic as the nearly-silent room had betrayed their noise and caught the attention of one of the men. How did she do this quickly and quietly? She tried to remember, feeling the stares of both the woman who knew what she was doing and the men who were about to find out. What was first?

If she remembered correctly from when Neal had given her the crash course on unlocking handcuffs. The first thing she remembered was to check for the type of lock – single or double – to know which direction to move the pin in. From the feel of them, she had the hunch they were single-restraint, so she pushed the pin in the according direction of travel. Soon, she was freed of her bonds.

"Got it," she muttered, hands shaking as she slipped a hand out of its cuff, using it to rub her raw wrists. "I'm out."

Katrina finally breathed again. "Great," she exclaimed quietly, anxious for her turn. "Can you get me next?"

"Yeah, but you'll have to pretend you're still cuffed when I'm finished." Elizabeth ran her fingertips along the deep cuts the too-tight handcuffs had left on her skin, knowing Peter would have a fit over them the instant he saw her again. She glanced up at Katrina, and, in her jubilant state, thoughtlessly revealed the rest of her plan to her. "Afterward, we can take out those men and jump-"

The door swung open, cutting her off in the middle of her explanation, revealing two men in the doorway. Nerves shot shivers up her spine and she glanced at the blonde next to her, as if for confirmation that she was seeing what El was seeing. And with the fear easily displayed in her wide eyes, she knew that her vision was correct.

Swallowing the end of her sentence, she looked up at the two men as they entered the room, walking straight toward them. They were quickly in front of the two women, looking down with piercing eyes that made El nauseous. Had they heard them? She didn't know how, as they weren't even the men in the room with them, but anything was possible. What would they do if they had?

However, he did not move toward El and the unlocked handcuffs behind her back, but rather, Katrina. "Stand up," he ordered, grabbing her arm.

Eyes widening, she complied, stumbling to her feet with shaky hands. Elizabeth began to stand up as well, but was quickly reprimanded by the other man's outstretched hand.

"Only this one," he stated in a low voice, at least an octave below any other voice she'd heard. "You'll stay here."

"Where are you taking me?" Katrina asked tremulously, eyes flicking between El and the men.

The man with empty hands had some shade of a smile on his face as he replied, "To meet the boss."

* * *

"I still don't see why we couldn't use a map."

Peter rolled his eyes and eased the car to a stop at a red stoplight. "I have a perfectly good GPS. If we're finding El..."

_El._

Peter had been avoiding the use of her name as much as possible since the car ride began, simply calling her "she" or "my wife". Every mention of her name burned his tongue, as his mind was thereafter flooded with thoughts of her: when someone said Elizabeth, he thought of the day he'd married one Elizabeth Mitchell, the happiest day of his life. Sure, things had gone wrong: her dad almost caused her to call off the wedding, his car had been jacked, and they'd had to walk home in the cold. Nevertheless, he hadn't tripped down the aisle, he hadn't been left at the altar, and El's father ended up wishing them well! He was married to the woman of his dreams, and the wedding night wasn't too bad, either.

But when he heard the name El, an entirely different memory sprung up; that of the first day he'd met her. In the earlier of his years with the bureau, he was assigned to investigate a theft at an art gallery, and as fate would have it, his future wife worked there as the assistant manager. He was completely taken with her the second that she shook his hand, smiling blue eyes peering into his, so he took it upon himself to handle any questioning of her and impress her by solving the crime. The art gallery was the birthplace of her nickname. Her name-tag spelled "Elizabeth", but it was scratched out enough that it merely said "El", so he'd called her as such. She explained that her full name was Elizabeth, but the name stuck.

And "Hon" was something he just couldn't go near; not with the state he was in. There was far too much history behind that one small term of endearment, from the day they'd walked down the aisle to the last day he'd had with her before she'd suddenly been ripped away from him. He couldn't name every account the name had endured, nor could he count every kiss it created or measure the warmth it produced inside at just the sound of it. He hadn't known what he'd begun upon first uttering the nickname, as he'd only intended to try it out for size – never expecting it to mean so much as the years rolled forward. "I love you," "It's okay," "I promise," and so much more, all in one word. What he wouldn't have given to tell her all of it, every single thing. To just call her "Hon" again, would give him an unimaginable amount of hope... something he needed then. Something they all needed.

"Peter, the road!"

Peter was blasted out of his thoughts by the noisy honking the vehicles surrounding produced. Blinking the distraction away, he jerked the car to a start toward the green light, shaking his head.

The passengers in the car were puzzled at his unusually-flaky act and exchanged looks behind him. Neal ventured, "Peter, if you want me to drive..."

"I'm fine," he assured him, turning at the next light to head toward the mountains. "I was just thinking."

"Well, I'm great at thinking and driving," Mozzie implied tentatively. "You know, at the same time. I could drive."

"You're asking to drive, too?" Peter asked edgily, sending them reeling into rephrasing.

"It might be a good idea," Neal nodded from the passenger side. "to let Mozzie take the wheel so we don't-"

"Die?" Mozzie supplied humorlessly.

Unamused, Peter huffed, considering the situation. He couldn't say he necessarily was in the best state of mind to control the wheel, so they did have a point, somewhat. He could give them that. "Fine."

He swerved into a gas station and parked haphazardly, shoving the door open to step out. Marching around the car and into Mozzie's seat, he closed the door and tossed the keys up to Mozzie with sober eyes and specific instructions. "I don't want these stolen, copied, or God-knows-what else, got it?"

"Understood."

* * *

_**Thanks for reading! I just love Mozzie. "You know, at the same time."**_

_**Elizabeth's putting Neal's teachings to use, and you know that Peter would be proud. The first scene of this chapter is one of my favorites, just because of all the puzzling minds coming together for the one person who, at some points, keeps them from killing each other. What a crew!**_

_**You guys have been super supportive and, basically, the best readers ever! Thank you for every one of your reviews, and follows, and favorites! You're all awesome :) I love hearing your feedback.**_

_**By the by, if you like Peter/Elizabeth, check out the oneshot I posted a couple days back: **Elizabeth Burke and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. __**I've gotten some nice feedback and am satisfied with how it turned out. Also, look out for a oneshot I'll probably post pretty soon, titled **Let's Play Ball_, **_referring to Peter's love of the sport and how it has changed for Elizabeth since they married._**

**_Welp, that's all for now. Make sure to leave a review before you leave! More reviews means a faster update :)_**

**_* *-TheSongbird341-* *_**

* * *

_DISCLAIMER__: I don't own White Collar, but you're about to see a character I **do **own... one I'm very proud of._


	16. Chapter XVI

**The Extortionist**

* * *

_When the infamous Extortionist hits NYC, Peter's got his hands full – between leading the investigation no man has completed, protecting his pregnant wife from a kidnapper gunning for her, and keeping Neal under control. Can he keep the inevitable from happening, or will he end up enlisting Neal and Mozzie in a quest to retrieve what has been taken from him?_

* * *

**Chapter XVI**

* * *

Elizabeth, hands secretly freed and mind racing, was now alone in the room, save for the two men blocking the doors. With Katrina now taken who-knows-where, she was left to her anxious thoughts of who "the boss" really was, what he or she was doing to her, and if the same would be done to her. Would they hurt them? Mustache had said he wouldn't venture to kill either of them _yet_, but El was sure that this boss, who was undoubtedly the notorious Extortionist or someone working for him, played by different rules – his own. Maybe the custodian was ordered against damaging them, or perhaps he hadn't the heart to do so, but surely this man they were doomed to encounter had less than no mercy if he was even _partly_ behind the abductions of innocent people; therefore, he wouldn't bat an eyelash at ransom-inducing torture or _worse_. She couldn't bear the thought.

Well, whatever it was, Katrina was out there receiving it at the very moment El sat there, impatiently shifting in her chair in front of the dining table. Inwardly, she wished the woman luck, although in all honesty, she wasn't exactly fond of her. If they'd met on the street, they wouldn't have spoken more than once. But they were stuck together now, and El couldn't find it in her heart to hope for the worst for anyone... not even her.

But whatever the "boss" planned on doing, she wasn't going to stick around for her turn. She had to escape now, while there was less security and less carry-on. Now was her chance, whether she had less help or not.

But she had to wonder: could she really do it? Could she actually leave her fellow hostage behind? Sure, the woman was whiny, and hadn't really given back as much comfort as she'd taken in. But the FBI were hot on the Extortionist's trail, and if all else failed, they would pay ransom after receiving the information El could conjure up of her surroundings, should she escape. There was a slim chance of their survival if they weren't found, therefore it was safer that she broke out and supplied enough information to allow ransom for Katrina. From every aspect but her conscience, it was the best thing to do. Even then, it still left a bad taste in her mouth.

But whatever she felt put aside, El had soon devised a half-baked escape plan that needed to be enacted quickly so as to work. Since she sat near the two men, sprinting for an exit wouldn't be an option, but her hands were free and she did have tools at hand to make for a lovely breakout of the nearest window. If she could knock them out, she could get out the window with ease and no one would hear her. Knocking them out would be the key issue, however. It was fairly obvious that she wasn't nearly as strong as the two men guarding her. The only odds on her side were surprise and supply. If she could grab something quick and use it to her advantage, there wouldn't be stopping her. But what had she to arm herself? Certainly not a sleeping bag, or her silverware...

_The chair._

She looked down at what she sat on and examined it, considering how it would hold up after smacking a man in the head. Looking sturdy, her resolve was to bash it on the closest man's heads, break the window, and hightail it out of there. That was all she had.

She watched the two as they stood, analyzing and calculating what they might do, until she was satisfied that, come what may, she had to try. So, after small hesitation to settle the uneasiness in her stomach, she stood, shaking off her cuffs as she picked up the chair, and without a second to allow reaction, slammed it down on the left man's head. Down he fell, and she stood in small triumph until she remembered there were _two_ men.

She turned to the other and found he was holding a gun up to her chest. She froze. _Uh-oh._

"I'll shoot," he demanded, looking down at her shed cuffs briefly before shifting his gaze back to her. Hair disheveled and eyes wide, she almost looked comical as she stood in her wary position, chair guarding her, thoughts racing. She hadn't often had a gun pointed at her, and in the few times it had occurred, she'd decided she didn't like it. The case was no different now, as every time she moved the chair or flinched, even, he threatened to shoot and her heart shot into her throat. Between a gun and a hard place, she didn't know what choice she now had left.

He would shoot her. He had the authority, and, as she assumed, clearance to shoot her, as long as he didn't kill her. If she tried to take off, he'd have her in her leg within a second, and that would hinder her for much longer than she could chance. If she didn't run, however, he'd have her caught, and she'd likely face worse. What could she risk?

"I _will_ shoot you!" he repeated, as if he'd read her thoughts. Her mouth went dry, and she suddenly forgot how to speak. She had to get away. She couldn't turn back now.

She pressed her lips together, thinking. El knew he saw her handcuffs hanging from her grip, meaning his next move would likely be to reassert them on her wrists. Could she surprise him then?

Her eyes fell to the pistol pointed at her chest, and she swallowed dryly. Everything depended on where he pointed that gun.

Thinking that he had her beat, he lowered his voice, muttering, "Put the chair down."

His hands didn't shift on the gun, remaining firm, so she obeyed, lowering the chair to the ground cautiously. When she was fully vulnerable, he walked closer to restrain her again, gun still displayed. She inhaled a shaky breath. _Just point the gun away..._

Impulse suggested force against the man; she'd need to detain him if she was to escape. But as he neared her, the painful observation that her options were limited began to tug at her mind. Her mind raced, but her eyes settled calmly on his gun, waiting. His grip was beginning to falter – he thought she was finished. Now was her chance.

Fingering the handcuffs behind her back, she caught him off-guard and whipped them around, swinging them at his face. They snapped against his cheek and scraped the skin under his eye, leaving a good gash behind. He fell backward and stumbled toward the wall, grabbing at the wall with one hand and his face with the other – his fingers came back smeared with blood. El's stomach did an odd flip at the sight and she fought back a shiver, swallowing her nausea at what she'd just done to another human being. The circumstances required it, though, and the treatment was more than fair.

The man wasn't so easily apprehended, however. With slight difficulty, he soon returned to his feet, fast enough to make her jump. She instinctively swung the handcuffs again, but narrowly missed him. Confidence slightly shaken, she made a second attempt and succeeded, not in injuring him, but in knocking the gun out of his hand.

Initially shocked she'd actually accomplished that, she snatched the gun quickly and pointed it at the man, hands shaking with adrenaline. She'd managed to disarm him, and wasn't about to chance undoing her work.

His eyes widened and he held his hands up, apparently unable to read her thoughts, as they were filled with horror at what she would have to do next to escape. El was pointing a gun at someone. He expected her to shoot him, and she didn't know _what_ she expected herself to do. She was in an extreme situation, but could that really change who she was? Could it drive her to actually _kill_ a person?

She bit her lip and shook her head. _No. No, I don't have to kill him. _Still, the thought that she _could have _was troubling. She'd never been in such a position of power, the power to end someone's life right then and there. She didn't like it.

So, instead of killing the man, she brought the gun down on the back of his head, causing him to shout out in pain. Her goal was to render him unconscious, and she'd succeeded. After assuring herself that he wasn't getting back up, she dropped the gun flinchingly and examined the damage. The bloody result of her handcuff trick was now smeared on his temple and his right hand, as was the blood on the back of his head, making her feel almost guilty – no, she wasn't guilty of anything. These men were holding her captive. They deserved what they got.

* * *

It was beginning to rain heavily when the men spoke again. Peter's nerves still stood on edge, and the constant pitter-patter of water on his window was driving him mad. Neal would look at the restless man in the rear-view mirror and shrink back into his seat, feeling slightly guilty for Mozzie's carelessness in the overseeing of Elizabeth and that he'd caused Peter's anxiety. The man was his friend, who had supported him after Kate's death, had trusted him with his wife's life, and now had to watch as he'd handed her life into the hands of a cold-hearted gold-digger with charges of murder that couldn't be pressed to a nameless man.

Mozzie felt just as bad as the other two; it was his fault Mrs. Suit was now locked up wherever that man fancied to keep her, just waiting to draw her out and do to her whatever was necessary in obtaining the money he desired. He knew everything about the man save for his identity, and therefore knew that over the years, he only grew crazier. It was less and less about the money, but more and more about the thrill, and often, the kill. He would do whatever he pleased to whomever he'd captured, knowing that should he be caught, which he never was, he was already in deep enough for a death penalty... so it wouldn't get worse for him no matter what he did. The thought made his stomach turn over, so he kept his negativity (or realism) to himself in a subtle attempt at damage control.

Needless to say, although I will anyway: their silence was tense but fluent in thoughts they hoped couldn't be heard in the empty car.

Peter was the first to speak, surprisingly, but his words weren't completely friendly. Leaning his elbow against the door, he remarked, "It's supposed to storm soon. Are you sure you know where you're going, Moz?" he questioned the mousy man driving.

Mozzie was thankful for the GPS's interruption, because honestly, he was blindly following the winding instructions of the machine before him. A female monotone voice called out, _"Turn left in three."_

Mozzie froze, confused by the machine's vague instructions. "Three? Three _what?_"

He looked back at Peter, who was shaking his head disapprovingly. He raised a nonchalant hand. "I know where I'm going! Trust me."

Peter almost made a dark comment on the fruition of trusting him _earlier_, but Neal cut him off. "Yeah, all he's gotta do is turn left in... 'three'." There was a hint of a snicker in his voice, annoying Mozzie but humoring Peter.

Mozzie squinted. "Maybe it meant three miles," he reasoned.

"_Turn left in two," _the voice spoke up again, as if it heard their conversation and wanted to join in.

Since they hadn't gone anything near a mile between now and the last instruction, Mozzie knew he was incorrect in his assumption. "Never mind."

"What does the screen say?" Peter asked, leaning up to the front.

Mozzie shook his head, sputtering "It doesn't say anything!" He'd been trying to make sense of the ridiculous contraption for a majority of the car ride up the mountain they now rode upon. This was the first time the Suit had noticed the thing had the mind of a 5-year old.

Neal had been trying to ignore the two of them during most of the trip, as the words exchanged were arguments, accusations, or sarcastic comments. He wasn't in the mood to mediate between driver and passenger, and instead kept his eyes on the window. That was the reason he was the first to spot a car over the hill; a red truck, very large, and headed their way. Upon the sight, he interrupted their conversation over the navigational system and stated, "Looks like we're not as alone as we thought."

"It has to say something." Peter snapped, not even hearing Neal's comment. Neither had Mozzie, apparently, as they were both so wrapped up in their verbal sparring to take notice.

Neal continued to speak, though falling upon deaf ears, trying to catch their attention. "Maybe we can ask him for directions," he offered, breaking into their discussion.

"_Turn left in one."_

"But there's three different turns!" Mozzie complained, looking at Peter but quickly turning his eyes back to the road when it started to bump. "Do you remember which one you took?"

"Hey, is he alright?" Neal asked no one in particular, and that's exactly who answered him, unfortunately. Neal could tell the man was either inebriated or asleep, as he veered to the left and right at odd times and angles, speed seeming to increase as he grew nearer. "He looks a little-"

Peter's eyes widened at Mozzie's ridiculous question, again ignoring Neal. "We haven't been there in three years! How do you expect me to remember that?"

The car was now completely visible, without a hill blocking their vision, and he only drove more recklessly with the increasing seconds. "You guys, we'd better turn off this road!" Neal shouted over their arguing, not exactly making a suggestion. The car was too close, going too fast...

"What?" they both snapped.

"_Turn left now."_

* * *

**_El's got her escape plan in motion! Love her back-and-forth inside her mind between "I'm not this kind of person" and "Desperate times call for desperate measures." One of my favorite parts of this chapter._**

**_Sorry this one was shorter, but since I finished the last couple chapters last week, I've been going through from the beginning, resizing and redistributing. After I've posted every un-edited chapter, I'll go back and post the reworked chapters before finalizing. I'd go ahead and do it now, but it's a crazy thing to try to do when readers know some things and not the others, so I'm going to wait. Sorry :(_**

**_Anyway, glad to be updating sooner! Thank you for reading, and make sure to review, favorite, follow, and alike. By the way, if you like Peter/Elizabeth stories, I've got a few short ones (along with one Neal/Sara/Alex oneshot) posted, so you can check out my profile for those. And if you have a certain preference for what couple you'd like to see my writing more, there's a poll there, too. If you've got any input whatsoever, don't be a stranger - shoot me a PM. I'm trying to get ideas for my next big project for this summer :D_**

**_Well, I'm done rambling. Thanks :)_**

**_* *-TheSongbird341-* *_**

* * *

_DISCLAIMER__: I don't own White Collar, but I wish I did. I'd get to see their first episode's filming in a week. Sooo ready for set photos!_


	17. Chapter XVII

**The Extortionist**

* * *

_When the infamous Extortionist hits NYC, Peter's got his hands full – between leading the investigation no man has completed, protecting his pregnant wife from a kidnapper gunning for her, and keeping Neal under control. Can he keep the inevitable from happening, or will he end up enlisting Neal and Mozzie in a quest to retrieve what has been taken from him?_

* * *

**Chapter XVII**

* * *

Peter felt as if they'd just cheated death on a personal level.

They'd noticed the red truck just in time, as it headed straight toward them with no intention of stopping. One of them had screamed, but he didn't remember who; maybe it had been him. That was beside the point.

Mozzie was their saving grace, for a change, and knowingly, as he practically rolled the steering wheel to the far left in a sharp attempt to save their lives. They'd veered off, leaving the road behind, and luckily for them, the action spared them. The truck merely skimmed the edge of the runaway car, chipping off the corner of the rightmost rearview mirror. Aside from the slight car damage and heart attacks they'd each endured, they'd escaped serious injury, instead left terrified, but unscathed.

He hadn't seen much during the whole encounter – just a blur of motion, green shared by trees and grass, with a red shape speeding past them and down the road, completely abandoning them, oddly. All sounds were blocked out by the deafening shriek of overexerted brakes, apart from the stomach-flipping thud of their back tires sliding on and off the road. The car wiggled to straightness on the road it reaccustomed itself to, just a moment before the brakes kicked in and they slowed down, cautiously meeting a stop.

Comically, they simultaneously expelled the air in their lungs and relaxed their rigid muscles.

"That was close..." Neal remarked, reaching up to rub the sore strip on his collarbone, accredited to the locked seatbelt; at the same time, Mozzie was desperately trying to loosen his own.

Peter wasn't so calm. Removing his seatbelt altogether so he could lean forward in his seat, he asked, "Anyone have an idea why that truck just tried to _kill_ us?"

"I couldn't see the driver," Mozzie admitted, unfortunately.

"He wasn't drunk," Neal was quick to point out. "Or asleep. He kept straight toward us for at least thirty seconds."

Peter didn't want to hear that, but he knew he was right. "You don't think it was _him__, _do you?"

Mozzie shook his head resignedly. "He could be sending a message."

Neal's eyes widened, and he sat up. "You think he's onto us?"

"He's not coming after us," Peter argued, though he hardly put much credit into the claim. In all honesty, the thought that it was a random encounter was unrealistic. There was no reason for anyone to be up in those mountains, and a drunk driver would have to have come pretty far from the nearest bar or neighborhood. He didn't believe in his heart that they were victim of accidental assault.

"Well, we know one thing."

He looked up over at Mozzie, who had some kind of something in his eye, like he knew something they didn't. "What's that?"

"If he was with the Extortionist," he began, starting the car up once again, "we must be headed in the right direction."

* * *

_One problem down, two to go._

With little time on her hands until the men would return for her, she was faced with her next issue, one she hadn't expected to be any worse than disarming her guards; getting out of the building. She surely couldn't risk using the door, and the window was locked and tightly closed, likely in anticipation of a situation like hers. Her tools weren't of much use now. The chair she'd dedicated to her first guard was now in wooden shambles – if only that man'd had a softer head – and the table was nailed to the ground, heaven-knew-why. All she had left at her disposal was the twisted bobby pin, which was now reduced to an unrecognizable twist of sharp metal, a used spoon, and her bloody handcuffs. Then an idea struck; one involving, of all things, the spoon.

Now, bear in mind that she, being a captive with a time limit, wasn't thinking completely rationally, but it was her only shot. If she could pick the lock on the window with the bobby pin, she could break it open with the spoon and jump out, although she hadn't the faintest idea of the drop she'd be faced with upon successfully breaking out. She didn't question her plan, however, and fell to her knees beside the lowset window, going to work.

Picking the window lock was entirely different from picking handcuffs, and with the worn pin bent and gnarled, she wasn't sure how it would hold out. Heart racing, she twisted it in the lock and prayed for the best.

After a deadly two minutes, she was making progress with the pin, though the process was far more awkward than any lock-picking she'd experienced prior. Fortunately, she was able to figure it out after time, and had soon unlocked the window. Instantly, her hand flew to the spoon she'd set beside her and she shoved it under the bottom of the window, pushing the handle of the spoon down to pry it open.

One of the men behind her let out a groggy groan, causing her to jump. She glanced backward to make sure he wasn't awake, and was relieved to find he hadn't moved, nor had the other. Taking that as a sign to hurry up, she turned back to the window – it was beginning to budge, but it grew heavier and the spoon was bending under the pressure. Her heart sped in her chest as she felt just how close she was to freedom, combined with the serious fact that time was not on her side. And that was proven when a terrifying sound filled her ears: footsteps.

The doorknob jiggled as she heard keys enter it, sending her into a panic. She immediately dropped the spoon to the ground, uncaring of where it landed. She grabbed her handcuffs and jumped back on the sleeping bags, hands behind her back in a sore attempt to appear innocuous. She knew that this was a hopeless achievement, but she put faith to it and donned her best innocent face. When the door opened, her heart stopped, and she resolved only to stare at the wall, for fear of worsening her situation with the slightest eye contact shared with whoever walked into the room...

* * *

"There!"

After a while longer of driving, Peter straightened up in his seat, pointing out the window. "That's it, over there."

Mozzie immediately spotted the building he referred to; and wasn't impressed at what he saw. While the trees and grass surrounding the building were overgrowing into the porch, they did little to hide the broken glass pouring out of the bare windows, which riddled of serious injury upon a single step taken. The wooden porch steps were splitting down the middle, leaving the men with a little more difficulty in reaching the building. Even the roof seemed to be caving in, which altogether gave the building a pitiful image. The cabin they'd used for reception and faculty was now reduced to crumbs of its former self. Peter was surprised to see how negatively time had affected a place of his and El's fond memories.

"Pull around," Neal suggested, nodding to Mozzie. The shorter man took the instruction with ease, allowing Neal to continue eyeing the run-down building. He was confused by the lodge's unflattering appearance and asked Peter with a hint of incredulity in his voice, "You two used to vacation here?"

Peter squinted at his tone, knowing that this was all Neal knew of the building, while he'd seen it at its best... which this certainly was _not._ "When it was functioning, yes. It's been the object of perfect vandalism and natural erosion for the past five years."

Neal raised his eyebrows. "It looks like a hurricane victim." He didn't give Peter time to respond, as he spotted a nice place to stop. "Park next to that tree..." he ordered Mozzie, gesturing to a tree, with severed branches hanging over the top of the car. "...which has been mysteriously cut away from the road."

"They were definitely here," Peter stated, nodding.

Mozzie didn't have anything to say to that, but focused on parking the car. Once it came to a stop, he removed the keys and tossed them back to the Suit, who awaited them anxiously. They exited the vehicle nearly simultaneously, each of their doors slamming shut in sync. They all looked around, taking in the secluded area in search of any clues that could lead them forward. Anything here could be used to their knowledge, and Peter knew that. As he trudged over the rough terrain, he examined the outdoor scene and the building overrun with insects and nature.

"This place really has had a rough few years," Neal remarked as they came to the porch steps, glancing between the other two. He considered how to scale the steps, and settled on taking them two at a time, as far to the sides as he could manage without falling. In search of assisted balance, he reached out to grab the post, but flinched back at the sight of a large, furry spider, threatening him to come closer. He settled to struggle the balance alone.

"Looks like a good place to hide hostages," Peter added to Neal's statement, trying to stay focused on the task at hand. It was difficult, however, with the memory of sledding with El down the hill they'd just scaled tackling him from the inside. Every memory did at the moment.

Inhaling, he scanned the building and asked, "So, where do we look?"

Mozzie finally jumped in, with a plan of his own in mind and a surprising claim to share. "I'll check the roof."

Peter raised an eyebrow, eyeing the all-too-eager man. "And how do you plan on getting up there?"

He chuckled, looking up at the roof as if it were the monkey bars. "I can scale that."

Neal shook his head, glancing around at the structure of the building. "These railings won't support your weight, Moz," he informed him, patting a hand on the flimsy railings.

"I won't need them," Mozzie stated dismissively. And that was that.

Peter and Neal exchanged looks, but kept to themselves. If he wanted to climb a building, who were they to stop him?

"Alright," Peter decided. "Neal and I will check down here. Don't kill yourself."

Mozzie nodded them off and stepped away from them, ready to display his ability. He grabbed the edge of the awning to test its strength, immediately jerking away and rubbing the spiderwebs off his hands. The other two men snickered at him, before turning to their own job. They had the whole building to cover, and Neal had the suspicion that they wouldn't be alone for long.

Mozzie, on the other hand, was completely convinced that they wouldn't just find remnants of the kidnappers within the cabin. The Extortionist knew they were here; that much was clear. And he was itching to play a game.

* * *

El's oblivious expression wasn't serving her well as the two men – she'd noted that they always came in pairs – at the door stared her down. Her thoughts raced and hands shook behind her back, holding unlocked handcuffs where they were formerly clasped around her wrists. Inwardly, she destroyed herself for being so close but too late to evade the men's return. How could she have been so careless in what might have been her only chance at escape?

But in all fairness, she'd only had a spoon...

Unfortunately, no one was fooled by her façade. The pair, both confused and shocked at the two men unconscious on the ground, split up; one went to examine the men while the other continued on a straight path to retrieve Elizabeth. He leaned over and grabbed her shoulder, jerking her upward. "Come on," the left one ordered her with no sympathy in his voice. El, feeling the other man's incredulous stare on her, easily complied. She wasn't about to put up a fuss when she knew she was in trouble already. With the news of her escape attempt sure to get to the "boss", or whomever that described, she was prepared for the utter worst, and couldn't hope for anything but to catch a glimpse of the man's face for Peter after she was rescued.

The man had soon pulled her into the hallway, and walked her in a straight path, toward the elevator. She didn't fancy the idea of being stuck breathing the stuffy air filled with her guards' squeaky-clean car-freshener scent, waiting to reach whatever floor they were headed to. She didn't fancy any of it, of course. But when something else entered her vision, she learned that these were the least of her problems.

Appearing from behind the closed elevator doors, a blonde woman that resembled Katrina, plus a few scrapes and minus her sanity, was dragged in by two more guards... screaming and sobbing insanely. Elizabeth's eyes widened at the sight, staring at the woman dangling precariously from the two men's grips on her shoulders. The woman was writhing back and forth between her guards, thrashing her arms around, as if she was an animal being trailed into a zoo. She looked like a complete and utter lunatic. El had to wonder what had they done to her to cause such reaction. She hadn't been quite so unstable when they'd parted... had she?

"She's lost her mind," her guard informed El's guard, breaking the silence. He had a wild sort of look in his eye, too, as if he, too, was unnerved and slightly terrified at the woman's reaction. Whatever had been done to her, _he _definitely hadn't done it.

"Crazy," the other echoed, a little less sympathetic. He, on the other hand, looked like he wouldn't flinch at driving the woman to lunacy. He actually appeared to be amused. "Boss wants us to lock her in a closet."

"Does it look like I'm interested?" her guard sassed with less humor in his voice.

No response. On that note, he asked what he'd truly been invested in. "Can we take her up or what?"

"Yeah, he's ready for her," the first informed him, nodding toward the elevator. Her guard took the hint and brushed past them, pretending not to notice the crazy blonde chewing her nails off.

El was instantly led away from the scene, casting back one look at the crazed woman behind her. She hadn't even looked her in the eye, as if she hadn't recognized her. She hadn't even _moved._

* * *

**_Hey guys! First of all, I'd like to apologize. I've been busy, then sick, then stuck in a big mess of Writer's Block, but am working my way out of it as time progresses. Wish me luck! I'm sorta driving myself insane with it._**

**_As for this chapter, thanks for reading! El appears to be in trouble now, and Peter, Mozzie, & Neal aren't much better off. Make sure to leave a review, as more reviews = faster updates :) And I wanna update soon; we're about to meet a key character in the plotline..._**

**_This summer, I'm idealizing my next ORIGINAL story plot (not fanfiction :O), so _**_if you have any plot ideas for a book but don't want/don't know how to write them, send me a PM. **Anything can spur a story :)**_

**P.S. White Collar started filming yesterday! Can't wait for set photos ;D**

_*** *-TheSongbird341-* ***_

* * *

_DISCLAIMER: I don't own White Collar. Boo._


	18. NOTICE

**NOTICE**

* * *

This story has been cancelled. Please visit my profile page for more details.

_*** *-TheSongbird341-* ***_

* * *

_"I will bless the Lord at all times; His praise shall continually be in my mouth."  
- Psalm 34:1_


End file.
